


Monsters Under the Bed (Who's Gonna Fight Them?)

by amyrallis



Category: Naruto
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author isn't sure what counts as a character, BAMF Senju Tobirama, Blood and Gore, Coraline AU, Dangerous Situations, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Eldritch, Emotional Manipulation, Fae Magic, Gaslighting, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, I tagged all of this twice because I'm an idiot, I wanted this out before the next chapter of the other fic, I'm Going to Hell, I'm not even going to go into hashirama, I'm so sorry for baiting you with day and then going in with full angst, Incest, Kinda?, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Mindfuck, Modern Era, Not Really Character Death, Obsessive Behavior, Panic Attacks, Psychological Horror, REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT, Read at Your Own Risk, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, So Wrong It's Right, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything, all of you anijas, anija I'm so sorry for dumping this on you, author has decided to abandon ship, author is contemplating what is a character, author is now a monk in Madagascar, author isn't completely mentality stable at this point, author wants to know how one slip ended up like this, author wants to know how other authors can handle this, author would like to know, author's particular brand of dark humor, bad life choices, blackmailing into shit, both because philosophy and to stone for her sins, daym heavy angst, guys what the fuck are you all doing, hits where it hurts, i'm definitely going to hell, it was supposed to end well, mads this was not the plan, mads what the fuck are you doing, my own fingers have betrayed me, not for people who like to burrow in fluff, or izuna, so you have an idea of what is coming, the only sane person here is tobi, this was just a stupid little idea how dare it take over my life, warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyrallis/pseuds/amyrallis
Summary: When one outshines the brightest star, the spectator can't do anything but withstand its glare.Tobirama has loved Madara for a thousand years, and feels like there has never been a time he hasn't done so.But the monsters under the bed are so very dangerous, and the shadows have never flickered so sinisterly before.When there is one last choice to be made, does one go for salvation, or destruction?(Answer: neither) Tobirama has never been good at conforming to the norms, and there is always another way. -or is there?-------A modern era Coraline auFor those who don't really want to go into the dark part, I am, despite what anija says, capable of fluff, and you are safe until the part it says 5th of SeptemberRead at your own risk
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama, Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Izuna, Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama & Uzumaki Mito, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 33
Kudos: 64





	Monsters Under the Bed (Who's Gonna Fight Them?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeacefulDiscord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulDiscord/gifts).



> Neither the Naruto franchise nor the Coraline one belong to me, I just play with the situations
> 
> Hello guys and welcome to my first published fic. I hope you all enjoy (is that the right word) the fic.
> 
> (Hullo day lmao)
> 
> The author regrets most things and would like to not be held responsible for tears, ugly sobbing, and the cruelty to Izunas
> 
> And now, without further ado, onto the fic~

20th of August

No,” Madara said. “You’re not moving with us, Hashirama. It beats the point.”

Tobirama sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. The discussion had been going for hours now, Hashirama insisting on joining them in their new house a few hours away from Konoha while Madara was wholeheartedly against it. He tried to pretend that it was because he didn’t want Hashirama’s loud self with them but Tobirama knew better. Something was up. 

It had been after Tobirama was offered a new research job at a University out of the city. He had accepted with little hesitation and it had opened the possibility of moving out, a possibility that Madara was at first leery about, but later -after Tobirama had allowed him two favours without any limits on them- had come to see the benefits of.

They’d spent hours, searching and visiting the places before Madara was fully satisfied, making Tobirama irate. He was finally going to put his skills and mind to good use, what was the problem?

He had not expected Madara to say he was worried about losing him to books and papers, something that had made Tobirama feel incredulous for all of three seconds until he got where Madara came from. Then, it had made too much sense. He had a way of going off in his own world, losing focus on reality as theories and ideas floated inside his head. He knew that Madara hadn't wanted to make him feel like he was being neglectful or ignorant -one of the reasons it had been so hard to tear the truth from him- but Tobirama was. And he never wanted to make Madara feel inadequate or lacking, especially by not paying him or his worries attention. He was taking this seriously. They had spent the day on the couch, lightly cuddling as Tobirama tried to assure him. The book he had been perusing before he had pushed Madara enough to scream the reason long forgotten on the coffee table. 

-İt had been one of the problems of neither of them being much for talking, preferring actions over words. Madara was just made that way, using body language and a slight glimmer in his eyes, wielded like a weapon, to explain his very soul. Tobirama preferred actions because they were clearer, for words tended to be omitted and manipulated by humans (their brains, to make them miserable). But they both tended to forget that actions could be understood wrong. İt was one of the more difficult parts of their relationship, not realizing that, some things just had to be said.-

Then he had to deal with the others. Touka didn’t really want him to go, but she was glad to be away from Madara’s explosive and flaily self, something Tobirama could, in the secrecy of his own mind, admit to being true. Hikaku was very understanding, only expecting to be called often.

Izuna was a nightmare. Tobirama had been barely able to derail him from following them and becoming their neighbor downstairs. Even then, it was uncertain if he wouldn't actually try that. Tobirama knew that he was just trying to keep them in sight after last year’s accident but this was a bit too much.

Had Madara not been agreeing with him, he suspected that they would’ve lost that argument.

Hashirama was not convinced. They had been arguing about it on and off for weeks now and the younger -youngest too, as he had been for an agonizingly long decade- Senju had finally reached his boiling point. 

He rolled his eyes heavenward. Couldn’t this wait another day? They would be moving then and he would finally get some reprieve. At least when Hashirama wasn’t hanging from his phone, constantly ringing and talking and making himself generally present even through his absence.

He was annoyed again.

Hashirama made a great wailing sound and threw himself at Tobirama who dodged him, causing him to land on the couch with a large 'oof' sound.

Tobirama leveled them both with a very unimpressed look before going for the kill. “You can’t come because you have the family business to handle and politics to navigate, Hashirama.”

And he was right. While Tobirama, as the youngest of the surviving two brothers, had been able to dodge the family business and become a scientist/researcher with a very useful black belt, Hahsirama was logged with all the work of being the eldest. Normally Tobirama would’ve been more sympathetic about helping him and taking care of all the things Hashirama had failed at, meaning almost all things except for inter-company business -Anija was surprisingly good at being sly and landing deals- , but he was devoid of all his time to help.

His ongoing research projects and extreme studying habits were overtaking all the time he didn’t devote specifically to Madara, who was as clingy as he had been at 17 at 22. He honestly didn’t know how he had been able to handle both of those idiots throughout high school. 

He smirked. Okay, maybe fast tracking his way through high school and graduating in a year did help. Followed by escaping to college. Tobirama amended his previous statement, he did know how he handled them.

And now, he was trying the same tactic, which was not allowing them to be next to each other for long periods of time because their last brain cells had the tendency to bounce off of each other and come up with horrible ideas like what happens if you do microwave tinfoil – a headache and a half that’s what, 14 year old Tobirama really hadn’t liked that.- or seeing if they could fly with cartoon wings –they spent two days each in the hospital for that one- And through some particularly painful twist of fate, it fell to Tobirama to be the damage control, or as much control they could have anyway.

Hashirama didn’t seem to like the reminder because he screwed up his face and gave him the puppy eyes of doom. Most wouldn’t be able to resist such a look, and thus were all weak, like Madara, but Tobirama had 20 years of experience under his belt. He raised his eyebrow and gave him the look of _'I’m judging you'._ Hashirama stared back, a battle of wills waging in the living room of their house.

Madara chuckled as Hashirama started to crumble, and walked up to Tobirama, his torso a comforting warmth against his back as they exchanged an exasperated look. Hashirama looked between them, his eyes going wide like they always did when he saw them together. Tobirama thought it was because he was still happy they weren’t tearing each other’s throats out anymore. A wide smile spread over Hashirama's lips and he jumped back up from the couch, which was one of the only things not packed and sent yet, excited once more.

“But Tobi,” The white haired man sent him an annoyed look at the long dreaded and cursed nickname, causing Hashirama to wilt for all of three seconds, a pout briefly flashing over his visage before continuing.

“You’ll call right? Very often and long calls. I don’t want to fall apart from you.” Tobirama’s eyes widened in horror and Madara chuckled against his neck as Hashirama grew tearful, half sobbing as he choked more words out. Tobirama was rather surprised he hadn’t choked on them. 

“I don’t want to be apart from you. What if you get tired of me? Or, or what if you find a better Anija? I won’t be able to keep such stupid people away from you if I’m not there!”

Tobirama stared with Madara -the heathen who dared to laugh at the imminent tantrum, Tobirama ought to have taught him better- as Hashirama dissolved into uncontrollable sobs, his shoulders shaking and his face screwing up. Crocodile tears ran down his cheeks, making the situation even more ridiculous. Then, as if a switch was flipped, he was on his feet, leaning close to them and giving Madara an imposing look that made him shiver before clutching his cheeks and squishing them, his eyes staring at Madara's while Tobirama slowly edged away. 

“You’ll stop such ridiculous things, won’t you, Madara?”

Madara took offense to that, rearing up, pulling free of the hands and filling with hot air as he started yelling at Hashirama, his hands finding the taller man's collar while he gave the idiotic tree a furious look.

“Of course I will! Who do you take me for? I’m not going to let him slip away and accidentally almost get married like that time you let him.” Hashirama gasped, his face twisting into something resembling offense and Tobirama started to mutter under his breath about stupid customs and stupid people. _It wasn't his fault that some people took punching an idiot as a marriage proposal._

“I didn’t! They said that it wouldn’t have been counted as one anyway! Why are you trying to make me look bad?” Hashirama turned suspicious. 

“So this is your plan!” He shouted, the volume making Tobirama wince while Madara sent the innocent bystander, Tobirama, a dirty look, like saying ‘Look what you got me into.’ Tobirama was very familiar with that look. Hashirama leaned even closer to Madara, his finger coming up at him like an overdramatic romcom reveal.

“You want to make me look inadequate in front of Tobi so you can have him all to yourself! No sir, we’re not doing that-“ 

“ _What did you drink Senju!?_ Do I look like I-“

Tobirama sighed before walking out of the house to avoid the drama that those two were now certain to cook up. It was almost impossible to stop the train crash after they started shouting, something Tobirama had learned the hard way. He slowly stepped into the front garden. They would diffuse by themselves as long as no new elements were introduced. Or, he thought while rolling his eyes, the subject of the fighting wasn’t in front of them to be a reminder. They had the attention span of kids who were on a sugar rush, after all.

He sat there for a while, the mid summer afternoon sun making his face slightly warm up as wind danced across his face, making his white hair sway with it like leaves caught in a storm.

His gaze traveled over the place critically. They had been staying there together for three years, Madara moving in after he graduated from college. The house was next to Hashirama’s, allowing him to generally crash for the night and make surprise visits. He was also the one who tended to their small garden, having a notorious green thumb. A hum escaped his lips as his eyes slipped closed and he tilted his head back, allowing the sunshine to hit his face better.

A pair of arms that he would recognize between a thousand slipped around his waist, a warm breath washing over his nape and making him shiver. 

“He’s finally calm.” Came Madara’s voice against his neck. He hummed once more. “I swear I’m certified to be a babysitter with all the time we spend next to him.”

Tobirama chuckled. “You were the one who became friends with him.”

“Me?” Madara murmured in mock offense. “He latched onto me and didn’t let go.” Tobirama felt a smirk pressed against his neck. “Just like you.”

So Madara wanted to play? He felt anticipation rise under his skin, making him feel warmer. Or perhaps that was the blush he gained when Madara’s hand grabbed his, his fingers gently running over Tobirama‘s knuckles.

“If I recall correctly, which I do, you were the one who latched onto me and decided to stay that way.”

Madara nuzzled his neck. “So harsh, my love. Show this peasant some mercy.”

“No.”

“Cruel fate. I fear I’m not long for this world if my love won’t bestow upon me his merciful smile.” Madara slipped around him, leaning over his side and giving him a soft look. Tobirama looked back, impervious as he always was when there was a game to be won. 

“Pity. I was just starting to find you tolerable.”

Madara clutched his heart. “No censorship with you, eh?” 

Tobirama turned his head away, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I’m afraid not. You’ll just have to deal.”

Madara laughed a carefree laugh, the sun catching across his wild curls and hitting his eyes as he moved back in to wrap his arms around Tobirama. The Senju felt his breath catch. Under the afternoon sun, Madara looked like a god given form, made to last forever in that tranquil and happy state. His onyx black eyes looked almost red as he leaned in, an enamored look on his face.

“It seems so.” Madara murmured, a smirk stealing across his lips. 

Tobirama leaned against him, content to stay there, safe and feeling like his chest was going to burst.

He wasn’t a person who used words to express feelings and it showed but… he liked to think, if given the chance, he could use his actions. Madara was the same. It was never quite the wording between them, more of a small hand twitch, the fire in the other’s eyes, a hidden smile. Their words were for sarcasm and science –for Tobirama at least, Madara generally preferred the art of flailing he was a master at- . To explain actions and situations and never ever feelings.

They felt inadequate. Feelings weren’t just some sounds stringed together. Tobirama had been burned in the fires of his feelings and pains since he was just a kid, he had learned those lessons well. Words were deceiving and painful most of the time thus they didn’t deserve to be taken seriously. Other things however, the way his breath caught and fondness swelled in his chest, the way he always felt treasured, small actions telling entire stories the words would never be enough to express, were precious and real.

Arms across his waist and little chuckles, soft kisses shared on lazy mornings and kind looks sent to one another when the other thought they weren’t looking. 

Tobirama knew his love and he knew Madara’s love. He didn’t need anything else.

\--

21st of August

Tobirama got out of the car as the truck was being unloaded, stretching his legs and arms after the long, long drive there. Madara followed him, his eyes bleary and tired from sleeping the whole way. Tobirama sent him an amused smile, his lips curling of their own accord and lightening his features.

It had been a long week. Even if they didn’t consider handling Hashirama being the clingy human being he was, there was the matter of packing –mostly left to Tobirama because he knew himself well, if the mess wasn’t his, then it was supposed to be organized. Even if he knew Madara didn’t want to make him do all the work- of saying goodbyes –tedious and mostly left to Madara, he didn’t want to get cried on again- and organizing for water and electricity, making sure it would be ready by the time they moved in.

He was ready for some rest after giving all his time to getting ready to move out for the entirety of the week. Madara let out a yawn and came up next to him, his hand gently rubbing his eyes.

 _Seems like I’m not the only one._ Tobirama let out a light humming sound and smiled as Madara leaned on him, putting his weight on Tobirama like a particularly heavy backpack.

“Tired, Uchiha?” He teased, a fond look dancing over his face. Madara scoffed and poked his side, making him lean away and scowl. 

“In your dreams, Senju.”

Tobirama sent him an amused look and disentangled from him, much to Madara’s consternation. The Senju approached the movers to oversee their job as the black maned humanoid cat whined behind him, making Tobirama smirk.

He looked over the place critically once more. Their new house had a huge garden and a shed, making him excited for all the experiments he could conduct now that he had proper space for it. The house itself was huge and painted a light green, something that had been a fighting point between him and Madara because why green? Why not a sane shade of white? Or even grey? They had been unable to come to a conclusion on that one, preferring instead to ignore the pain.

Four stories with stairs on the outside of the house, connecting to the attic and to the basement, and lots of rooms, one of the reasons he wanted this one even though they supposedly had neighbors. One of them lived in the attic _–not a very healthy life-style,_ Madara had remarked. _What would you know of health, Uchiha?_ **_Oi_** \- And the other lived in the basement part of the house, leaving them the, level-with-the-world section. Madara had appreciated the sentiment when he wasn’t raging over the stupidity of sharing a house with others when they could live on their own.

The truck moved out as they closed the gates, the place going back to peaceful serenity once more. Tobirama locked the thing, an exhausted sigh escaping him, a rarity in itself for he was known to spend days hunched over experiments and books, not stopping once to eat or sleep unless someone forcefully dragged him away. Hashirama had always been worried about that habit, saying that he wasn't taking proper care of himself and would burn himself out, sometimes even blaming Madara about it. Now though? He was fully ready to go to bed and sleep next to Madara as a consolation.

“Stop wasting time, Senju. Yours being so _slow_ , I thought you were the fastest around here, what happened? Were you just boasting?” Madara called back, sauntering onto their new porch.

Tobirama scowled at the black haired man's back, lengthening his strides to catch up to his partner as his face twisted into mock anger. “Don’t confuse us, Uchiha-” he said lightly, leaning over Madara's shoulder and whispering into his ear. “-I never boast.” 

Madara sent him a look, eyes lowered and voice forcefully light. The air grew electrified as they stood on the porch, the distance between them non-existent and filled with an unspeakable charge. “Is that so? It was Hashirama then.”

Tobirama groaned and felt the electricity disappear as suddenly as it had appeared, his body relaxing from the ready to act position he was holding it in. “Why did you have to bring Anija up?” Madara gave him an innocent smile that was no good for his heart. 

“Who, me?” 

Tobirama raised his hand and cupped Madara’s jaw, leaning in and brushing his lips against his lover’s. “Yes, you.” 

Madara rapidly grew red, his eyes locked on his lips and Tobirama chuckled lightly before passing him and walking into the house. “You coming, slowpoke?”

His chest felt light as he heard the sound of Madara crashing into the door with his usual eloquence, the pale purple moon barely peeking out from between the clouds.

\--

26th of August

He had to admit, the place was very spacious. Even after they unpacked everything –which wasn’t as much as he had feared, outside of his work related things, they had basic necessities and mainly, books- there was a lot of room left around, entire sections bare and empty, rooms and storages not even touched.

Tobirama guessed it was good. That gave them a lot of places to work with and said a lot about the price, which was low even though the place was gigantic. _It's likely because of the placement of the house_ , he thought, _not a lot of people live out of the city these days._

The house’s placement was also one of the reasons they hadn’t stayed at the university quarters, where they had free boarding but was so small Tobirama felt trapped even standing there.

Tobirama curled closer to the heat enveloping his back and stretching across his stomach, a contented feeling spreading in him and making his head deliciously fuzzy. His head tilted back, Madara’s soft curls tickling his cheek and his lips twitched up. Madara was sleeping, breath escaping in little puffs and the worry lines on his face smoothing over, the constant stress of handling this slowly escaping his shoulders. His hair shone a midnight black under the caress of early morning sun and his lashes looked soft on his face, tickling his cheekbones like that.

Tobirama shifted again, an uncomfortable feeling making his chest tighten when he thought about having tired Madara. It had been a constant nagging in the back of his head, making Madara move and causing him to follow Tobirama around even though he knew he could just get a job in Konoha and let Madara stay inside his comfort zone. He had justified himself, saying that he deserved his own comfort and desires too but it was useless, especially after how used he was to taking the blame for everything -It wasn't anyone's fault, he just tended to be blamed first in everything that went wrong. It was usually a point of amusement and pride for him, but sometimes, when he was silent and the world was joining him in his sacred song, it would feel wrong and he couldn't help but hate that they did it, that they blamed him all the time. And _that_ caused him to get angry at himself for hating something he was supposed to like- . It would continue to happen over and over until it’d just fade, a weight he didn’t know finally dropping off, but slowly, over time and stopping him from realizing he was heavier than he should’ve been, something that made it so very impossible to detect the flaw in the situation and accommodate for a repeat of it.

Tobirama knew himself. He didn’t want to cause his loved ones pain for his selfishness. But he also wanted to move around, explore and experiment and he couldn’t do it while stuck in Konoha, trapped down by his father and all the humans that somehow found his life their own business, forcing him to feel like an animal trapped in a zoo, forever to be scrutinized and judged -and in the end, be found unworthy. He was just waiting for Madara to realize that, lately-. 

Madara shifted against his back, causing Tobirama to tilt his head once more to stare at him. Madara's eyes opened before they locked on Tobirama’s own and made Tobirama's breath catch with the affection in them.

A soft sound escaped Madara, questioning his frown that had formed while he thought. He gave the still half asleep man a placating look, raising his hand and catching Madara’s own in it. Their fingers threaded together with habit borne of repetition and stayed like that, an almost desperate feeling overcoming him and making him seek that small comfort.

In all his life, Tobirama had found full safety in only two places. With Anija who was always such a stable location for him, feeling like happiness and warmth, and with Madara, home and an all consuming fire that raged against everything but him –mostly- . Of the two, Madara, lately, was so readily available to him that sometimes when he was away, when Madara wasn't as present as he tensed to be, Tobirama felt like he couldn’t quite breathe right, like something that was so intrinsically him and helped him be who he was was lost, gone, and he’d never find it. After, they’d be together again and Tobirama would just stay close, unnoticeably close to most, perhaps, but Madara always seemed to know when he was feeling out of sorts -he had never been part of the most, his love- and perhaps, that was why he would move closer too, letting Tobirama bask in his presence and their silence. Alone perhaps, but together. Together, everything was easier to bear.

It had been the same with Anija, an almost dangerous –and he knew himself well enough to know his personality and thought process, there was no way it was anything but almost dangerously dysfunctional. That didn't mean he was going to abandon it- sort of codependency between them for years. Something which had been very obvious when they’d been apart for the first time in years, during his brief stint in college and after, his travels.

The feeling of loss when he was apart from both at the same time was something else entirely. In his travels over countries and continents, the most important he’d learned was that it didn’t matter after sometime, he just wanted them back.

And right then, with the heaviness of his decisions bearing down on him, he felt tired. But Madara’s hand in his own, his torso next to him was home, was grounding him from the way his mind always flew ahead, faster and faster as the world burned in his eyes, the reflection of the flames in them dancing in his eyes -the eyes, were the windows to one's soul. What did it say about him that his were the color of pain and anger, of love and passion all wrapped up together?- .

He focused back as Madara reached down, his other hand covering both theirs and tilted his neck just so, touching his forehead to Tobirama’s. Tobirama's breath hitched at the emotion he saw in Madara’s eyes, an overwhelming love burning in black spheres that when he sometimes looked at from the corner of his eye, burned red. 

–red like love and passion and anger, like sadness and happiness, vibrant ( _red like Tobirama)_ . Like fire that burned so hot within Madara, the one that burned so bright that Tobirama felt like he could never match it. For he knew himself, he was not a bonfire like izuna or a firestorm like Madara, (the very sun like Anija) but fire that burned green and blue and purple, like snow and hail and tsunamis, crashing upon the world to bring it down to its knees, _for daring to be greater than the mortals it nurtured-_

Madara gazed into his soul, his eyes searching and burning with worry. Tobirama gazed back, cooling down and hiding his ridiculous worries aside, his face smoothing out before his lips quirked up. “Breakfast?”

Madara stared for a few seconds, his face hardening and then going back to tranquil. Tobirama felt his heart beat harder, wondering if Madara would inquire further, if he would take Tobirama's word for it, if he’d worry more. He felt almost disappointed when Madara let it go, a defeat admitted way too quick, instead saying, “You’re preparing, I suppose.”

A teasing smile settled over that much treasured face and he felt something in his chest twitch. 

Tobirama huffed, all of his earlier thoughts long buried and jested, “When we have such a great chef here? How could I, the measly human, ever hope to match? Ever dare to?”

A choked laughter came from Madara, making his shoulders shake and dissipating the heavy atmosphere once more. Tobirama hummed to himself, _job well done_.

“You’ll learn one day hopefully, Senju. We don’t want a repeat of the Accident, do we?”

Tobirama gave him a scathing look. “Now that you mention, I’m not sure we don’t want that.”

“Rude.” Madara pouted, barely hidden laughter dancing in his eyes.

“Uchiha.” Tobirama returned, for they were synonymous at that point.

Madara squawked, his face going that red which always meant flailing and property damage. Tobirama decided it was time to abandon ship.

Tobirama slowly disentangled, freeing his legs before going to lift himself up when Madara grasped his hand, using it to pull the white haired man back, making him fall over and land on the black -black? Wasn't it supposed to be purple? Panic started to travel through his chest, adding to the adrenaline, before it stopped suddenly- eyed man's chest. Tobirama gasped as he landed, his reflexes making him tense while his instincts forced him to relax, for he was safe there.

Madara caught him, his arms wrapping around Tobirama and face burying in his hair. He then shifted, pulling Tobirama closer almost desperately as Tobirama adjusted, just before Madara sharply inhaled and allowed one of his hands to tangle in the white curls. Tobirama silently breathed, his mind having gone quiet as they sat there, entangled together and soft. 

His eyes shifted to the side as his own hand rose and buried in Madara’s long hair that was pooling around their hips. The air was lighter, the sun had risen and he felt similarly light. Dust particles floated around them as they stood there, their heads leaned together and Madara slowly inhaled. Tobirama thought he was gathering courage.

“Tobirama…” Madara trailed off, his voice going soft. “It’s okay. Whatever has you troubled, it’s okay. You can always talk to me.” His arms got tighter as he said that, an almost desperate tinge to his voice. “I love you. We have a new page ahead of us, a different book to write. Let’s fill it together, not apart. You know- And all that. Yeah” 

Madara chuckled, his voice high with embarrassment. Tobirama felt his face grow softer, the cold that had gathered to his defense during the beginning dissipating. He raised his head, ignoring Madara trying to keep it there insistently with a heavy grip on his name over the three dots in a circle tattoo he had -he didn't have such a tattoo? But he had always had it? What was going on?- and looked straight into those beautiful, (red-purple-)black eyes.

“Madara. Hey _-hey_ ,” he ran his hand through Madara’s hair, the familiar texture comforting as Madara gave him a distressed look and leaned in, relaxing infinitesimally. “I’m not trying to set you apart. I just had unnecessary worries in my head. You talking helped a lot.”He paused there, a heavy weight hanging in the air. Then he softly said, “I love you too.”

Madara gave a sigh of relief, his hands relaxing as they caressed Tobirama's hair. Tobirama leaned in, their foreheads touching once more. And he was telling the truth. The way Madara had stopped to take care of worries he wasn’t even sure were real had made his chest feel relaxed once more, making the fuzzy feeling that had dissipated, return.

He leaned back once more, a teasing look entering his face and murmured, “Breakfast?”

Madara laughed, matching his look. “Sly Senju.”

“Of course,” he said. “What do you take me for?

\--

31st of August

It started as a game. Madara was bored, wanted to do _something, anything, Senju_ and Tobirama couldn’t take his whining anymore. He was starting to think that maybe, _leaving him with Anija did have some pros after all_ , a horrifying thought.

At least they kept each other busy and allowed people to have time to themselves, bouncing off of each other. As long as one knew how to keep the collateral damage to a minimum, it was the best choice. He breathed in slowly, pushing his reading glasses up and leveling a glare at where Madara stood at the other end of the room, just outside of the shack.

“You know I’m right, Senju. It’s so boring here.” Madara hissed. “Pay attention to me dammit-“

Tobirama snarled under his breath,” I _am_ listening, you idiot.” He abandoned his research in the shack that he’d specifically told Madara not to enter, who had decided yelling from the doorway was a good enough substitute, and stomped –he would never admit it- to the door, his eyes angry and exasperated.

Madara brightened immediately as he saw him get up, a breathtaking smile overtaking his features and causing Tobirama's fury to subside like water over a fire. His eyes widened and he turned to the side, trying to hide his blush and obviously failing. Luckily, Madara was distracted enough to not notice as he excitedly stood there, the desire to move and flail obvious.

“There you are. I was wondering if you had gained immunity.” Tobirama felt his eye twitch.

“You were doing it on purpose?” Madara gave him a sheepish smile and removed his hand from behind his back, and good too, Tobirama was wondering what he was quite obviously hiding there. 

A bouquet of hydrangeas were there, blues and purples creating a beautiful hue in the afternoon sky. They hadn’t been living there for long, a few days had passed and Madara had been able to busy himself when Tobirama had to work well enough, reading some books and calling Izuna and Hashirama when he was especially desolate.

It had grown old fast and Madara had decided to make that loudly known by throwing himself on the couch and moaning about boredom. Tobirama had given him an unimpressed look before declaring that if he was so bored, he could go and meet their neighbors.

Madara hadn’t said a word about boredom for the rest of the day.

Tobirama wondered what Madara had been doing all day before moving there. He couldn’t come up with anything but his freelance business as a vigilante with Hashirama –he had to bail them out three times and those were the times he even knew it happened. He suspected that Izuna was somehow involved.- and going out, and he couldn't do that now. His heart had given a pang before subsiding and had succeeded in making him feel bad enough to sit with Madara and watch one of his horrible rom-coms.

The boredom stint had been going on for three days and Tobirama was annoyed enough to throw something. It was a blessing that he had enough practice with restraining himself about that.

And then, as his eyes stared at the flowers clutched in Madara’s slightly shaking hands, he felt his mind draw up a blank. Madara was clearly nervous, a tight smile on his face as he looked at Tobirama while time went on, making his heart beat faster. He walked towards Madara, his features softening and frown easing as he lightly raised his hand and grabbed Madara’s in his, lowering his head so Madara could settle one hydrangea behind his ear and brush his gloved hand –childhood habit from his hands always being cold, Madara had told him and it was weird. Madara had always run hotter than the heating system- against the taller man's cheek.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. This flower exchange thing was normal between them, to remind of the times they had together –whether it was good or bad, for the sad parts made a story too. Tobirama knew that better than anyone. They had been four brothers once, just like Madara had had four siblings, only one remaining till then.- He wasn’t expecting Madara to be quite so fervent about it, but the way his eyes always flickered nervously when he did those gestures explained some things.

He raised his head once more and leaned down, brushing his lips over Madara’s and whispering over them.

“ _Thank you, love_.” 

Madara hummed, his face still slightly pink and his eyes a light purple. 

Tobirama startled as the sound of something crashing echoed in the shack, a curse escaping his lips, and dove back in to clean it up. He gathered the broken pieces of the vial he had been so sure was set properly and got up to throw them in to the trash.

His eyes stole across Madara as he did so, his step stuttering for a second as a strange foreboding feeling filled him at the expression on his lover's face. Madara was staring at he vial that had shattered, his eyes strangely intent on the spilled substance even though his face was expressionless.

The three globs of chemical on the ground glowed a dangerous red as Madara met Tobirama's eyes, red meeting onyx black.

Tobirama resumed his step smoothly, all thoughts of strange looks and lilac irises forgotten. "Why don't you go and take inventory, love? It can even be a game for you."

Madara whined, his shoulders dropping as he unleashed the puppy dog eyes and promptly failed in convincing Tobirama.

That was good, it was normal.

\--

2nd of September

Tobirama sighed as Hashirama’s face came into focus on the laptop, leaving him no more excuses. Hashirama had been insisting on calling him at least three times a day and Tobirama had reached the end of his reserve of patience specifically reserved for Hashirama.

"Tobi!" A loud voice exclaimed from the screen. Hashirama was a blur while the internet struggled to keep up with him as he seemed to try and jump through the screen.

"Hello Anija," he greeted, struggling to keep his face straight when he recognized Mito and Izuna behind Hashirama, sitting formally and having a stare contest.

 _Likely trying to decide who gets to deck Hashirama_ , Tobirama thought. Had he been there, the honor would've gone to him as the next of kin, but as he wasn't, he had to let it be done by someone else. Finally, a smug smile broke across Mito's face and she gave a victorious look over Hashirama's shoulder, Izuna sulking in the background. 

Mito dipped her teacup towards him, her face the very epitome of smugness and then suddenly her hand surged ahead, catching Hashirama across the head and sending him careening forward as he squawked. His arms did cartwheels trying to catch his balance as they all stared at him impassively, no patience or mercy on their faces.

They were quite used to him, after all. An inch, and he'd go a mile.

He shifted on the couch in the living room, settling down in a more comfortable position when Madara came in. Tobirama's head turned towards him before he beckoned Madara over, saying,

"Your brain cell donor is here Anija, how are you holding up without him?"

Hashirama went a tomato red as he stammered, his hands flailing and making shapes around him as he whined. "Tobi, you're so _rude_ to me. Don't call Madara that."

Meanwhile, Madara spluttered, his face turning an impressive purple and then whitening as he processed the sentence. "Donor? As if I'd give that idiot anything even if he was about to die. Really, Senju, you need to up your insults."

Hashirama made another wailing sound, gripping his two ponytails on the sides of his head and pulling on them, his face twisted into a pitiful look as he kept up the whining. "Madara! You're so rude too! Did you and Tobi multiply your rudeness? Do you mean you'd let me die if you were the last man on earth? Madara, how can you do this to me?!"

Tobirama sighed and massaged his temples as Hashirama continued to be a pain. Madara approached him, settling down on the couch and leaning into his shoulder, their hands linking together once more. Tobirama felt himself lightly flush as Madara pulled them up and kissed the top, Mito sending him an amused look while Izuna joined Hashirama in his screech as chorus against the _public affection_ as he called it.

Tobirama sent Madara a dirty look. "You just had to." Madara smirked at him. 

"Of course, Senju." 

Then Madara leaned down, resting against Tobirama's chest and sighing softly as he nestled there. Tobirama rolled his eyes, an amused feeling overtaking him while he smiled. He continued to ignore Izuna as he yelled, “No PDA, no my eyeeeees. Aniki stooop-'' then threw himself down to the floor, sobbing dramatically and making Tobirama wonder if Hashirama had been giving lessons. He had told him that he wasn’t allowed to but this wasn’t the first time Hashirama had dared to go against set rules behind his back. Not that it ever ended up happy for him because he just wasn’t one to think things through, that role fell to Tobirama, something he had accepted long ago when Hashirama had quite knowingly shoved his hand into a hole that Tobirama had told him would have poisonous animals in it and gotten stung by a scorpion.

Madara rubbed his head against Tobirama’s shoulder rather decidedly and gave Izuna a dirty look. “No one’s asking you, brat. Why don’t you go play with your little butter knives? I’m sure they missed you.” 

Tobirama snorted when Izuna made a kettle like sound and grew red, his eyes screaming murder as his hands slipped into the flailing art traditional to the Uchiha. He stared with horrified curiosity the way one watched a train wreck and wondered if İzuna would faint. However Izuna continued to defy expectations by not fainting and yelled. 

“ _Butter knives_ ? **_Butter knives_ ** ?!? How dare you Aniki! I’ll _show you_ butter knives, just you wait. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to look at pictures of any sharp things.” He started to make a strangling motion with his hands while violently getting up and downing his tea before spitting it out with a pained sound. 

Tobirama was fascinated. How much of a trash fire Izuna could be had been a concept of his studies for a long time and _, that had just proven it_ , he thought as he realized that the idiot had burnt his tongue. Izuna stomped away as Mito gave him a bored look and Hashirama continued his wailing, not having gotten it all out yet. Madara started to shake against his chest, his shoulders rapidly moving up and down as he buried his head in Tobirama’s neck, thoroughly joyous. Tobirama joined him with his own chuckles, feeling warm once more. He placed his arm across Madara’s shoulders and leaned his own head over the bird nest Madara sported.

“It’s nice to be away from the danger zone when he does that.” Madara murmured into Tobirama’s ear, his voice muffled from the white hair. Tobirama snorted. “Complete agreement.”

“Tobiiiiii.” Came Hashirama’s annoying voice, cracking through the bubble of safety they had and making him snap, “What, you idiot?”

Hashirama flinched back, an overdramatic sob escaping him before he shivered under Tobirama’s glare, apparently deciding he didn’t want to piss him off anymore. Tobirama gave him another dangerous look before Hashirama slowly smiled, his mood swings making Tobirama wonder if he wasn’t bipolar, once more. It would be just like Hashirama to adopt a mental illness like a puppy and act like he had it. He had done it before, after all. 

His shoulders loosened as Madara squeezed his hand, the other coming to rest on Tobirama's forearm, touch casually possessive and a calming, familiar thing.

“So how’s it going?” Hashirama asked, rather forcefully stopping the aggressive cuddling they were doing. Tobirama rolled his eyes, Hashirama could be very childish sometimes, especially considering that they had done that all the time back in the other house and Hashirama had seen it so many times that he’d gotten desensitized to it. Or so Tobirama had thought. Apparently not.

“We’re good Anija. Nothing has happened since the last time you called, which was this morning, _why are you like this,_ and we’ve settled down well.” Tobirama said briskly, the way too often calls wearing down his last nerve. Madara poked his side, prompting him to smile tightly and continue. “Work will start soon and we’ll have more time to see you.”

And that was very ironic, because normally people had less time to share when the work period started. Something that made him wish for such a thing for all of three seconds before guilt overwhelmed him, causing him to shift and try to forcefully calm himself. He was able to see his family and friends often, something that should’ve made him grateful for the chance.

They’d be able to see them more often because Madara had shown rather directly that he needed a babysitter to stop his more ridiculous ideas. Something Tobirama was normally able to do but couldn’t while working in general or while working on some of the more dangerous subjects, things that he didn’t trust Madara around with and was planning on leaving with Hashirama and the others during. If it was also his long overdue revenge for all the fun Mito and Izuna had dared to make of him when they got together by unleashing the nightmare that a deprived of him Madara and Hashirama were, that was his own problem. He smirked lightly.

Hashirama gave an overjoyed laugh while Mito side eyed the younger Senju, aware of the implications of his light smirks. They usually preceded him tearing down a moron or overthrowing a company, sometimes making people cry as Madara laughed by his side. That was when Izuna walked back in, a haughty look in his eyes with his chin tilted up so he could feel taller while trying to look down his nose at them and a butter knife twirling in his hand. Tobirama went still, barely stopping from laughing like a maniac at the pathetic attempt for intimidation when Izuna got an apple from his pocket and started carving into it, an evil look on his face.

Tobirama cracked up. Laughter filled the air as his shoulders shook and he struggled for air, tears rolling down his face. His mirth continued for a time before he fınally stopped, little chuckles escaping him still. Tobirama lifted his head, his eyes rising slowly and saw Madara staring at him, wonder written across his face as he gave him a reverent look that made Tobirama feel like he was the most precious thing on earth. Madara’s hand brushed over his face and tucked some hair behind his hair, soft and gentle in a way Tobirama hadn’t been handled in a very long time and he felt his breath catch with the emotions he saw in the other man's eyes. Reverence and a dangerous kind of desire flickered over the purple orbs before they settled down in adoration, making Tobirama shy away a little. A soft silence filled the quiet as they stared, and Madara gently hummed.

“I’ve never seen you laugh like that.” He said, his voice forcefully light and airy. Tobirama looked at him closer, wondering why he had a strange look rapidly taking over his face once more. Then he raised his head, looking at the laptop. Mito was staring, a soft look in her eyes as she gave him an understanding look. 

Tobirama felt uncomfortable, he didn’t need anyone looking at him like that, he was fine. 

Izuna had joined Madara in staring, a light shock on his face as he rebooted and smirked, sarcastic. “What, Senju? Is this why you don’t laugh? Too pretty for the peasants?” 

Then, Izuna blushed lightly as they both realized he’d called Tobirama pretty. Madara’s arm slipped around Tobirama’s waist, annoyed with his brother.

Tobirama sent him a dirty look and replied scathingly. “What, Uchiha? Too strong for a normal fruit knife?”

Izuna blushed and glared, the knife held tight in his white knuckled grip. At least he wouldn’t accidentally drop it and stab his own damn foot. Tobirama didn’t doubt the possibility.

His eyes slipped to Hashirama as hid brother inhaled harshly, his face weirdly blank for a second before he gave Tobirama a blinding smile to calm the worry on his face. Tobirama felt himself relax when Hashirama's face filled with emotion again, an indescribable worry settling behind his collarbone and in his lungs, taking over his head for a second before he shoved it back in. It was stupid.

\--

5th of September

Tobirama stared at the door in front of him, the air dark and musty smelling, reminding him of a dungeon or a place that hadn’t been touched in a really long time. Madara wasn’t home, Tobirama’s job had just started officially and he had sent Madara away because he had to get the dangerous chemicals settled. 

It was about two weeks after they had moved there and the air was cold, a warning for the winter that was fast approaching. He had done a quick job of the chemicals in the shack but the equipment had yet to be settled, something that was annoying him to no end. He was forced to stop and sleep however, even his continuous practice on not sleeping couldn’t keep him awake after the rush of two days, desperately trying to finish so Madara could come back but not willing to rush because it would be dangerous for them both if it wasn’t done properly. 

But Tobirama had never been good at listening to his body’s needs, he rather needed Madara for that. Madara was the mother hen between them, always worrying and making sure nothing happened even though he was the greatest human disaster Tobirama had seen except for Hashirama and Tobirama himself, something that had caused everyone to always call the two of them soulmates. Tobirama sometimes felt that it was not a very off remark, and even though he wasn’t one for unnecessary poetry, –except when it concerned Madara, then he was all for it, words spilling from his mouth like useless dust over a book and making him feel inadequate, because Madara was everything, sometimes he felt like the stars just might turn black and his heart empty out if he ever lost that man, _and wasn’t that terrifying?_ Tobirama wasn’t the kind of person who needed others ( _lies_ , his mind told him, _Hashirama was your one and only clutch, once_ ) to be able to keep himself together but Madara was like gravity, always pulling him close and keeping him working, a magnetic sort of drag stopping them from seperating, and him, from scattering across the space in an empty search for a place to call home. He had never felt this put together since Hashirama had turned his back to him, once, and said _no, never._ _Something was lost that day_ , he couldn’t help but think, and he thought about it sometimes -always- , when the ache behind his chest became too much and only Madara could help. It felt like deliverance. It was destruction colored red- but he thought that there was something destined for greatness between them, sometimes.

Tobirama was different from others. There had always been something more in him, he knew. Where most people looked at others and saw hair and eyes and touched skin and muscle, heard voices and laughs, Tobirama sometimes saw pain, their very soul sometimes felt like it had unravelled just for him, just so he could touch it and in the recesses of his mind, he knew touching it was the greatest gift he could bestow. For there was something different -wrongwrongwrong his mind whispered, the images of a cruel face and a sneer imprinted somewhere deep in his mind- (wonderful, whispered a cracked voice in his ear as one became two, and then, they were three) about him and he couldn’t help but see tears on a broken mind, laughter and golden halos, anger like he had never seen, and colors. The very colors that defined them and made them the one human being they were. It made his chest ache sometimes, when there was loss there, the grief echoing in his own chest and making him feel like he’d crack open –he never did- (sometimes he wished he had). 

Between all those colors he could see, he had never seen anyone as captivating as Madara (sometimes when Anija was truly angry or furious, his soul would feel almost tangient and Tobirama could see it, but then Hashirama would flinch back and it would all disappear, taking all the lights and warmth of the world with it -because Anija was somehow always quiet, his soul secreted away inside his own chest-. He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to be left bereft of that beauty and light, and a traitorous voice in his head would whisper he had likely deserved it. -who would love a monster anyway?-) Madara was the summer at it’s best, all fire and warmth, blazing and scorching against his mind but always, always welcome. Tobirama would get caught up in his orbit, only pulled closer as time went on and he’d lose himself in it, becoming something that wasn’t quite him, not anymore. –He tended to overlook that however beautiful and ethereal, neverending, the orbits were, in space, they were the most destructive thing to ever grace the universe. It showed-

At their best, they were sunshine under a tree, the breeze drifting around them and coloring the dull, dark world aflame, soft whispers shared under a starlight sky, as endless and eternal as a promise –sometimes it felt like he’d never escape it and he didn’t want to anyway. Was it really a trap if he didn’t want to leave in the first place?- and perhaps something that even the arrogant skies and life wouldn’t dare touch for the beauty of it, made to last forever, like a dream. At their worst, they were galaxies crashing together, both unstoppable and destructive, ending everything in their path, a supernova going out. But one thing was always the same. The soft turn to Madara’s eyes as he looked at Tobirama and his breath caught, their love always the very same thing and maybe it changed a bit, maybe it _was_ different than before, perhaps better or perhaps worse for it but at its core, it was them, TobiramaandMadara, together til the very end, off on their feet and running, forever and always.

He wanted to think it would -could- last forever. Madara looked at him sometimes, in that way that felt like he was the center of the universe, like the stars could burn out and die, time could reach the very end and he wouldn’t care. He was ready to believe it would last forever. He wanted it to.

-Maybe, just this once, it would. Maybe for once, in all his lives and stories, this one could have a happy end. Maybe, maybe.-

 **_(Red flashed across his sight.)_ **

He needed Madara back.

Madara was a grounding force against his mind and the only other person that could help was Hashirama, the heavy blanket of his protection helping him feel safe and focus on himself and sometimes, Izuna. Izuna was a helping force however, rather than being able to defend. It rather limited his options.

He had crashed down after, only the equipment left and slept for a few hours before he was awakened to the sound of something slithering over the ground. His first thought was a snake because they had a rather big garden and a pond close to them but when he woke up, he had found nothing of the sort.

Vines were covering the entirety of the floor,wiggling slightly and slowly turning around. Tobirama stared for a moment, wondering if he was still dreaming and pinched himself discreetly. 

A hiss escaped his lips and he spared a thought to wondering if it was the chemicals but _no_ , he glared at one of the vines, _they had to be real to have broken one of the pots_. His anger doubled when he realized it was Madara’s favourite one, Tobirama had gifted that flower to him after the near miss in Kiri with the piranhas. The vine shrunk back, emitting an almost guilty aura that sent alarm bells tingling in his mind -the feeling was very similar to the aura of the book he found in one of his boxes, one he had never seen before.- 

An idea began to form in his head as he stared at them, acknowledging that something very dangerous was happening there. He slowly lowered his foot to the living room floor and instantly, the place his foot touched was clear, the vines moving out of his way but leaning towards him. He filed that away for later, the realization that they didn’t seem likely to be hurting him a distant thought in his head between all the other ones, rushing and clambering for his attention.

There was something in the house.

He had had a very light feeling about it, something that tickled his brain all throughout the week and made him unnerved but Madara had been calming, taking his focus off of it. He kind of regretted having let it go back then but in that very second, he had to find out what was going on.

His steps were light as he crossed the room, taking special care with the placement of the vines and he entered the kitchen, going straight for the knife compartment. Just because he had to walk into what was obviously a trap didn’t mean he had to do so unarmed. 

He tilted his head and amended that statement. He was never completely unarmed.

His breath was quiet as he walked through the house, the place having gone eerily silent despite the way the vines continued to slither, the sound somehow not existing, something that sent even more alarms through his head. What if they had done this before? After all, the only way he had even found them was the sound. If they were able to be silent…

Moonlight glittered across the knife that was kept low in his hand as he walked through the house, the sound of his mind keeping him company. There was a weird feeling in the air, like anticipation, and it made Tobirama feel like whatever there was down there, it was holding its breath for their confrontation. His defenses flared up when he did so, deciding to be ready for anything. Madara would be coming back to the house and there was no way Tobirama was making him stay in a dangerous place.

He entered a room that he had entered only once before, a feeling telling him that this was it, what he was looking for. He threaded lightly, passing the bare length of the room and approaching the door that was painted into the other wall, right in the middle of it. 

When they had first rented the house, the seller had told them that the door was a mural, something from an old lover to their lost love. Tobirama had felt like there was something unsaid in the story but he was never good with hidden emotions, -Madara took care of them and handling people- so he left it alone. Tobirama hadn’t really cared about it anyway, it wasn’t like they needed the room when there were so many others that were closer to their main living space.

The second time he had seen it was when they were competing, a game for counting the most rooms and objects in the place. It was their new brilliant idea after Tobirama had been interrupted one too many a time and he had entered the room slowly, a light foreboding feeling creeping along his insides and making him scoff. 

He wasn’t a kid, he wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. No, he stopped himself, just dismissing the feeling would be overwhelmingly stupid. His instincs had never let him down before, and ignoring them was a stupid, perhaps even deadly, mistake. The vines that had been circling around his ankles throughout it all crept forward towards the door. It would be called a thing of beauty perhaps, by another. Lilacs framed the door that was made from wood and had cracks on it, forget me nots hanging from its top and petals floating around it, giving it a fairytale feeling, one even he would believe, had it not been for the blood dripping from its hinges and the sword drawn over its middle. The painting was obviously an old one, likely something from an artist that had lived there, but something about it made Tobirama feel cautious in a more subconscious way, the kind that made people shy away from darkness and silence, an old instinct coming back to life.

Perhaps, because it was the place the vines had started pulling his ankles towards, perhaps, it was the way that even though the door was obviously a very old painting, it had not chipped or grown old, perhaps, it was the way the flowers on the wall seemed to sway lightly with breeze.

He realized with horror that the blood was spreading on the tiles and feeding into the vines, shapes of three circular lines from the same circle being drawn over the wooden tiles. His eyes widened as he made an aborted attempt at pulling free when they began to tug more insistently at his ankles, almost toppling him over.

The door cracked open.

For a second, Tobirama thought his heart would stop and he’d wake up from this dream like mirage but he didn’t. The door slowly opened wider, a deafening creaking sound echoing in the room and reminding Tobirama of the horror movies Madara had liked to watch and then cry about. He spared a thought into running from the house and finding someone qualified to take care of it all, but he honestly didn’t know who it would be. He was barely believing it himself and seriously doubted that whoever it was wanted to be caught.

All evidence led to the target being him. Madara was gone and there wasn’t anyone in this part of the house,the vines weren’t violent, rather complacent in fact and Tobirama felt his chest tighten with dread. He didn’t know what was going on but, his knuckles turned white from the strength with which he was holding the knife, he would find out. And when he did, there would be hell to pay.

The vines crept into the door, disappearing from sight and pulling him with them. The air in front of the door was stagnant and musty, like it led to somewhere that hadn’t been used in a long time. He was reminded of old houses left for their ends. Whatever was in here, they hadn’t gone out in a long time. _Or_ , Tobirama’s mind supplied, _they hadn’t been let out._

His feet slowly dragged across the tile as he stepped in. The place was a corridor that felt like it stretched on for miles and felt warm like the inside of someone's mouth, a humidity hanging heavily over the place. It felt like there were thousands of eyes on him, staring into his very soul and making him feel like he was being judged. The vines scampered next to his ankles, sometimes brushing over his shins and knees then darting away, a dangerous air of playfulness radiating off them.

His pupils contracted as he saw a golden light at the end of the tunnel, making him grimace and narrow his eyes to escape the assault. No such luck however. He continued walking, the vines disappearing around him while the tunnel seemingly got shorter and shorter. He felt himself slow down even more to delay the inevitable, not sure if he wanted to see what would happen. Goosebumps travelled over his skin as he reached a light, the now familiar dread settling over his shoulders once more.

A slightly ajar door was the source, carrying with it the scent of dirt and rain. He braced himself, his mind flashing back to the other day, the way Madara had grabbed his hand just before he left, his eyes wide and worried. A soft smile danced over Tobirama's face and he took a deep breath before slowly pushing the door open.

For a second he wondered why he was doing this. He could just pack up and leave, tell them that some sort of explosion had happened and tell Madara they couldn’t live there. Madara would accept it because Tobirama already knew that Madara was missing home, being with his brother and Anija and Mito. He wanted to be home and maybe if Tobirama allowed him to go back, he wouldn’t have that ugly resentment festering in his chest. Tobirama hadn’t wanted to believe that Madara could be angry at him. But that first morning when he stopped, there was a look on his face that Tobirama had been scared of. Madara wasn’t happy.

And to be honest, neither was he when Madara wasn’t. These days, the sky felt darker, like a storm was approaching and that they wouldn't be able to outrun, and Tobirama wanted to do it. _He wanted to do it so much._

But he was so very curious and there was a strange sort of haze around his mind that made him feel like he wanted to go down and learn everything, like going down there and understanding it was all he wanted from life. There wasn’t supposed to be a way for this all to be real. Vines, didn't move. Doors made from paint didn't swing open. That was not how it worked, in real life. He wasn't in a hero movie where the world bent to his will, where the plot worked for the main character, where he would win. He shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

He ignored the nagging voice that sounded alarmingly like Mito telling him that he _was_ doing it.

He squinted as his eyes adjusted, his eyes quickly taking in the area around him. It was like a lighter version of their old house, the couch and table placed the same way, just like the corridors and the pictures which were the very same. 

The yellowing wallpaper was torn up in the same way that theirs had been, the old clock that Madara had bought when Tobirama was late to their anniversary was turned to left at the exact same angle ( _So you don't miss time passing, you dumbass_ , Madara had said as his eyes glinted a soft red.). The bookcase that held his favorite books still stood to the corner of the room, the shade of purple that Madara had chosen clashing horribly with the red couch in the middle of the room. He slowly stepped further in, his footsteps not making the groan that it would've caused in their old house.

The foreboding feeling returned, bringing with it a shiver down his spine and questions. This wasn’t their old house and even if it was, he would’ve had to teleport. But no, this couldn't be their old house because all of the furniture that was placed there had been taken to their new one. He stared at it uncomprehendingly, trying to come up with an explanation for it and thinking up ideas about crazy stalkers. It wouldn't have been too much of a stretch, had Tobirama been anything that could even remotely be called attractive, or interesting to most. At least his theory that it was for him was confirmed.

He wondered how this place even existed as he slowly approached the pictures on the wall, a morbid sort of curiosity filling him while he wondered what other impossibility rested in the little pictures hung right over the armchair.

His breath caught. 

They were all pictures of him. One that was taken while he was a kid, hugging Hashirama, another with Izuna, Mito, Madara and him, a happy smile on his face –they had caught him off guard, he remembered, it was a sunny autumn morning and the leaves were a beautiful red that reminded him of Madara. He had gotten one and in a spur of the moment decision, taken it to Madara. He was so very ha- Only him, in some of them. Various situations, reading a book, working on a project, eating. He knew the stories behind all of these. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the picture to the left, four brothers under a shadowy tree and laughing.

There were only three copies of that picture. One was with Anija, the other was with Touka and the third was his. A vague memory of searching for it but then deciding that it was in a different box came to him and he stiffened with anger. How dare they? That picture was something sacred to him, something that he barely even allowed Madara to touch, and this person, this being, had dared to steal it from him? 

He ran over the possibilities as he turned around harshly, anger setting his face in a dangerous light as a scowl dug itself into his lips. There would be hell to pay. (He forcefully shoved the idea that maybe, Madara had taken his picture and there was something else going on, away. He would never doubt Madara, it was just instinct talking. Madara wouldn't do that to him. _The tattoo on his neck glowed lightly._ )

There was a different sort of air to his steps, like anger and justification mingling with rosemaries in the air, as he breezed past the front room and the garden, searching for the culprit when he realized something else. Even though the inner decoration and layout was the same as the old house, the outer parts were taken from the new one. He raised his hand to grasp the other as his vermillion eyes took in the silvery shine of the moon. It had a vague purplish tint to it, like it had been soaked in starlight and then painted with lavender dust before being left under the sun to dry, causing the gigantic figure to shrink. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought, wondering why he felt like the moon was supposed to be bigger.

His feet carried him across the garden to reach the previously empty plot of land as he wondered, his teeth clicking in a nervous tick that Father had told him to stop, long ago.

It was covered in flowers that were placed in a circle shape, going around the little pond they had in their new house and covering the bridge that was decorated with ornate flower drawings that Tobirama had rather liked.

 _Forget me nots glowed a bit brighter as he passed them, onto the bridge_.

There was someone else next to him, the silhouetted figure a vaguely familiar shape as he approached, something in him recognizing the danger everything in this different world represented. His forcefully suppressed panic made him slow down as he came closer, desperately wanting but also fearing the knowledge.

Tobirama cautiously approached the man, the knife carefully shoved under his sleeve a heavy weight as he came closer. The the scent of wood and dirt entered his nose, making him dizzy for a second before the man turned, throwing his world off its axis.

The first thing he saw was brown hair that was long enough to reach the man’s waist while lines of gold and chestnut ran through it, and green eyes that were slightly brownish in the outer parts, the iris having gained a cracked look from the rivers of ichor that ran through them. His breath caught and his heart stuttered.

“Hashirama?”

The man smiled, his teeth a bit sharper than they should’ve been and his eyes just a bit too bright. “Tobi.” He murmured, something almost reverent in his voice as he reached towards Tobirama, his fingers curling towards him desperately. 

Tobirama stood frozen for a second before his mind started to work once more, then he threw himself back, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to get away.

Hashirama’s eyes darkened, his smile dimming for all of three seconds before it came back in full force. 

“Who the hell are you?” Tobirama asked, a strange sort of spell falling over his shoulders. Within his head, the man was a supernova, burning up and turning, faster and faster with every second that passed and letting Tobirama see the galaxies etched into his soul. In his mind's eye another shape started to grow, a shadow that overtook the sky and cast black on the solar eclipse of his, black holes churning like empty and hungry worlds where there were supposed to be eyes and hair covering the world, weaved together like a spider’s web.

Hashirama smiled at him, moving closer once more and Tobirama stepped back, realizing it trapped him against the bridge too late. Hashirama stepped after him, his hands settling on the bridge as they stood there. He leaned closer, something almost desperate and yearning in his eyes and murmured, “I’m your Anija, Tobi.” His face was tilted down to Tobirama’s, and the intensity in his dilated pupils made Tobirama uncomfortable. This wasn’t why he came down there.

That man wasn’t his brother. Tobirama knew Hashirama since he’d been born, a constant by his side until he was 17 and they had never been separated –except for…- He’d know his brother anywhere.

And Hashirama was in Konoha with Madara, not in this pocket universe kind of place as the overdramatic villain of the story. 

Tobirama raised his hands and pushed Hashirama –because he didn’t care enough about the doppleganger to give him another name- away, his hands coming up to protect his face right after. Then, he kicked the taller being in the stomach for good measure, catching him hard and flinging him away. The white haired man turned around, trying to get back to the house because he had had enough. He didn’t know what exactly was going on and he wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore, because there was something very wrong. It was very obviously time to go.

He rushed back to the house, the grass seemingly trying to cling to his ankles as he moved across it and rushed to the front porch, his hands perfectly still as he opened the door. The way in was covered with red bricks that looked hundreds of years old, giving the impression that they had been there when he first passed through them. Dust trickled down the doorway as he stared, desperately trying to understand.

Goosebumps rose across his body, making him shiver as breeze hit his sensitive skin. “No.” He breathed. This wasn’t possible. 

He gave himself a mental shake. Apparently, it was, now and he needed to get on with the program because otherwise, he would have to learn what was going on and he wasn’t sure he wanted to, anymore.

He started to think about possible options, especially considering that he had just kicked the doppelganger away. He was sure it hadn't earned him any brownie points. 

H could try to break one of the windows, perhaps to no avail, or perhaps to meet another bricks set. It might have been possible that he needed, a distraction, of some sort, to bypass whatever that was keeping him inside and go back. In the meantime, he could try the other flats. Maybe he would be able to find something to help him, even though he didn't know what he was facing down, or how to handle it. He tilted his head as worry started to claw inside his mind and shoved the panic, fear, stress down. Now wasn’t the time for emotions. He could do it.

He decided to go for the upper apartment, for it would be easier to escape anyone that came up rather than if he was trapped down

"At least I'll have the moral high ground," Tobirama murmured to himself. Madara would be proud of him.

His feet flew across the stairs as they creaked under his weight, reaching for the small balcony and bursting into the house. He had never been there before, but he knew the layout of the place -that is, he thought bitterly, if it hadn't been changed by this world.

The place was very organized and filled to the brim with science equipment. Test tubes and Bunsen Burners were positioned on a table to the side with gloves and lab coats hung from the hangers. Little bubbles rose from a tube that had a magenta liquid inside it, slowly rising to the roof and joining all its friends in no-more land. Cases and locked closets filled with more shiny equipment gazed down at him, impervious in their condescending silence.

Tobirama slowly wandered in, taking care to not touch any of the stuff as he did and looked at the chemistry lab that was positioned to the side. It reminded him of his old science lab in college where he had been in charge of everything as long as no one died. He forcibly pushed the memories back, reminded of the many near misses that _had_ happened. It was not the time for his hyperactive brain to take the reins.

“Tobirama.” A voice called out, eerie and low. Tobirama’s breath caught as he recognized the familiar timbre of Izuna. He slowly stepped back, trying to not provoke anything because he could feel eyes all over him, wandering and curious and so very hungry. From his peripheral, he saw a hand reach out to snag his and pulled it back, his legendary reflexes finally doing him some good. He was on guard as he turned around to face whoever it was while slowly getting ready to run and-

“Mito?” he asked, the situation eerily reminiscent of what had happened minutes ago. Another face joined hers.

“Hello, Snowflake.” Said Izuna, a playful tilt to his mouth as he gestured to Mito. “Ice Queen here was getting ready for a show but you burst in early. What happened?” 

Tobirama tried to think of a response as Mito sent Izuna an annoyed look. “Says the Drama Queen. Tell me, weren’t you planning a showing with your butter knives?” She said, her annoyance turning into a victorious smile.

Izuna went red, his hands clenching tightly before he shoved his nose into the air, unable to deny.

Mito gave him an amused look that was just a bit fond, then turned back to Tobirama. “Let us adjourn to the living room, yes? He must have startled you a lot for you to be even faster than usual to kick his ass.” Tobirama looked at her, taking in the way she was standing confidently and comfortably, the way Izuna was as dramatic as ever. He knew she was talking about the Hashirama outside.

“You’re one of them.” He stated, his voice cold. Mito smiled at him, not disturbed in the least.

“One of what?” 

Tobirama couldn’t quite answer. All of this was starting to feel like an outrageous heat dream and he was quite tired of it. Mito seemed to have recognized something on his face for she slowly reached for his arm and led him deeper into the place. 

He let her. He needed to understand at least some of what was going on because these doppelgangers were too close to real for his comfort and they seemed more civil than the Hashirama one. At least they weren’t making moves on his personal space. Well, not too many.

They walked to the couches in the middle of the room behind the door at the end of the lab space and settled down as Mito went to the cabinets in the corner. “Tea?” she called back, rummaging through the cupboards and giving an enthusiastic shout when she found what she was looking for.

Alarm bells were raised all over his head as she said that, his mind instantly slipping into the myth of Persephone. He didn’t know what was going on but there was no way in hell he was going to eat anything. Especially not when he didn't know the rules, or the players, or even the game. He didn't need another reason to add to potential rules he broke, even though he may have been trapped already. He recentered himself. Despair wouldn’t help.

He stared at Mito impassively as she set a cup down in front of him way sooner than it should’ve taken to make tea, and leaned back, projecting an aura of comfort to throw them off their game. No matter what they may have known, Tobirama was an unparalleled master in the art of manipulation. He would not be failing at this.

Izuna leaned forward as he brought out a knife from his sleeve, producing an apple from his pocket as he began to carve into it. Tobirama tensed at the similar gesture, his mind catalouging the act.

“So, what do you think of the place? I know that we haven’t settled down properly and that the equipment isn’t what Snowflake-sama is used to, but it’s pretty neat. Mito has a lot of plans.” Izuna said, his eyes intent on the apple.

And there it was, the uncomfortable feeling of too many things colliding with real life. The knives, the fond looks, the characterization and their speech patterns. Tobirama hid his discomfort under an unimpressed look and decided to play along. He knew Mito and Izuna like the back of his hand. There was no way he was going to get a straight answer. He ‘d have to take the long road and trick them into giving it instead. “Seems kind of bleak, don’t you say?” he said, untouchable.

“Hashirama is going to renovate the place later, we wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, after all.” Mito simpered, taking a sip of her tea. “We know how much you wanted to live here. There is a craving for adventure there, yes?” 

She sounded like she was sympathizing with him, trying to make him feel comfortable enough to spill his guts and Tobirama _knew_ that tactic. He wouldn’t fall for it the second time, was kind of surprised that Mito had thought she could get him with it. (Maybe, she hadn't and that was the real trap? İt didn't really matter anyway. myito, when faced with challenges like this, tended to leave only one opening. The person she was going in with. Izuna, was the real weak link there.) 

“I’m not sure, actually. The place is too bland for my tastes. I may just decide to go back to Konoha. Madara likes it better, after all.”

Mito’s eyes flashed with anger as she heard that, something that Tobirama noted for future introspection. “You can’t just go away. Hashirama spent a lot of time building this place for you. We wouldn’t want him to start over again, would we?” Izuna said, a dangerous tone to his voice.

Tobirama felt his face twitch for a second, his impervious mask slipping away as he came to conclusions, each one worse than the other. He wasn’t sure if he was right but those words implied that this had happened before. He didn’t know how or when -or, to _whom-_ but that settled some things. He had to go to the heart of this and he didn’t want to. He just wanted to get out of this place and go back to Konoha, find Madara and never leave again. But he couldn’t. Tobirama had never been able to leave a mystery unsolved and this one had started to unravel, drawing him in. And, he thought bitterly, it wasn’t like he could anyway. The door was blocked and he didn’t know any other way to leave.

The only way out was deeper.

He tried to stand up as he said, “It’s time I leave-“ but he was forcefully pushed down by Izuna, a dangerous smile spreading across his lips. “But don’t you want to see my show, Tobira-chan?” He said, his voice going high on the –chan part.

Tobirama felt anger unfurl in his gut but knew it wasn’t time to fight. Izuna had a knife in his hand that was too close to his neck for comfort. He settled down, warily eyeing them as Mito smiled once more, vindictive. He knew he wasn’t going to like it.

He didn’t like it.

Izuna rose from the couch, his face filling with anger as he laughed and then, the knife in his hand was soaring through the air and straight through the chemical tubes in front of Tobirama’s eyes. An explosion happened as it shattered, sending goo everywhere. Then Izuna was off, a seemingly infinite amount of knives that he pulled from his sleeves shattering more and more glass as they collided. The ground started to fizzle in some places, the chemicals reacting with the materials.

Tobirama lunged for the other couch with enough cover as another explosion happened, jumping over it and crouching behind.

It stopped just as he was contemplating running for it. After all, they had said that Hashirama wanted him there, that should’ve counted as alive too. If that wasn’t proof enough that they wouldn’t, couldn’t, kill him, then the vines were. They were strangely calm around him even though he knew they could move pretty fast and were more than likely able to drag him through the house. The realization was chilling as he understood that he could’ve been pulled in there anytime, if it was wanted of them.

There was silence for a second as they all stared at the mess Izuna had made. Mito rolled her eyes and brushed some goo off her jeans, collected as ever. 

“You are going to be cleaning up that one, Izuna.”

Izuna made a whining sound, seemingly about to protest before Mito stared him down, a dangerous look that Izuna had been failing at on her face. Izuna shuddered with horror before he turned to Tobirama and gave him another slightly too large smile. “So, did you like it?” Tobirama slowly climbed up, taking his time before he walked around the couch and looked at the Uchiha down his nose. “Kind of pathetic, if you ask me.” Tobirama said, impervious and untouchable in his disregard.

"Oh now you've done it."

Izuna inhaled harshly, his face twisting in anger as Tobirama finally managed to get them to drop the pleasant act. He wanted to know what was going on and a composed Izuna or Mito would never reveal anything. 

An angry one however…

He dodged as another knife went sailing through the air, coming straight for his side and fast. His eyes were wide as he barely managed to, stopping himself from getting his own out and retaliating like his instincts told him. He didn’t know their abilities and he didn’t want to give his one advantage away so early. 

Mito made a hissing sound as it all happened, her eyes wide with fear, her hand raised to hit Izuna. "You idiot! Do you know what he'll do to you now? How could you lose your-"

Her tirade was cut off as the room started to shake as if gods were raining judgement down upon them and the walls bled into vines and branches, reaching out for Izuna and pulling him into them while he hysterically yelled. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry Hashirama, I didn’t realize! I didn’t know you weren’t that fast I swea-“

He was pulled into the wall, the room smoothing back over as if nothing had happened. Tobirama stepped back, his face twisting in horror and stared at Mito as she looked back, her face pale. 

She made an attempt to stop him before he took off from the room, the tiles moving up to grab at him while dodged the parts of the wall that came back to life as he moved past them, a desperate sort of feeling fueling his sprint. There were still knives on the ground and Izuna’s apple had fallen down, eyes and mouth carved into a shape that distinctly resembled Tobirama.

Tobirama burst out of the room as another reached for his arm and jumped straight out over the railing of the stairs, passing into freefall. Wind rushed around him for all of two seconds, the feeling of falling enveloping him.

He knew it -jumping down- would be okay the second the walls had pulled Izuna in. Whatever was going on, they didn’t want to hurt him or let him be hurt. Falling from there was potentially lethal, if he wasn't trying to land properly, and he wasn't. The world would interfere.

He wasn’t quite expecting the ground to literally rise up and catch him though. But, he was ready the next time they came for him, vines slithering around his form as the grass started to grow linger, sneaking around his ankles, or trying to. He sprinted through the garden, running to the only other place he hadn’t visited outside of the shack he had put aside for experiments in the real world.

His steps were silent but fast as he dove down the stairs of the basement, his heart beating fast from the adrenaline crash. His hands were lightly shaking as he knocked on the door, causing it to open. He gave it a suspicious look, well aware that somehow, during all this, he had played right into Hashirama’s hand. However he had no choice but to continue.

He resigned himself. He didn’t know what or likely who he would be seeing but he had the feeling that this was going to be the real shock.

He was right.

Tobirama walked into the place as a breeze caught his hair and ruffled it, giving it a messy look. The place was darker than the last one, something that made him even more wary for there were a lot of shadows for things to jump out at him from. He strengthened his stride, holding his head high as he entered a circular room. A few lights decorated the walls with the light blue wallpaper. His steps slowed down to a stop and his breaths echoed in his ears as he looked around, noting the differences between the room and the blue prints he had seen. A few books were strewn about and sheets were hung from the ceiling, creating a giant circular space in the room. He slowly passed them, ducking to avoid getting hit. Inside was a rather impressive pillowfort, stabilized with sheets and comforters hung on pillows that had giggles coming from the inside.

He squinted when he remembered the fort from a dreamlike memory that was shaded golden. His breath caught in his throat and choked him as he did so, the memory something that felt bittersweet and painful to remember. He wouldn’t-

Two little children ran out of the fort, their laughs and giggles filling the air as they tried to catch each other, circling the room and Tobirama twice before they even realized he was there. His eyes grew wet as his heart stuttered for the second time that day, the image before him something he had lost long ago.

Itama smiled up at him from where he hugged his leg.

“Aniki!” Itama said, his voice high with the childishness he never had had the chance to grow out of. “We missed you! Why did you keep us waiting for so long?” 

“Yeah!” Kawarama joined, boisterous and joyful as he had always been, a blissful smile on his face. “We waited so long and we were bored so we made a pillowfort like you taught us how to and then we ended up playing catch-“ Kawarama was going on and on. Tobirama continued to stare at them, wanting to assure himself of something that he wasn’t sure what.

He went down to his knees, his hands cupping each of their cheeks as he started to check them down, his hands shaking while he did so and hot, salty water running down his face.

“Aniki!” exclaimed Kawarama as he saw what Tobirama was doing, worry coloring his face and his voice. “Are you okay?” It was that question that did Tobirama in, his shoulders heaving with sobs as he faced his worst regrets once more.

He couldn’t help but vaguely think about how Hashirama had known about all of this and clearly wasn’t afraid to use his knowledge against Tobirama as he was tugged into the fort, two little weights nestling against his sides. They sat down and stayed like that for a while, their bodies snuggled together as Tobirama stared emptyly at the ceiling that showed the stars that shouldn’t have been seen from the basement, let alone under the fort.

“They say that if you’re desperate enough, the white moon rabbit will heed your call from the stars and send you a miracle, Aniki.” Itama said, his voice low. “You were staring at the stars so I thought I would explain. Hashirama gave them to us so we could always see them and be able to call for help.” He murmured against Tobirama's arm, his body curling closer.

Tobirama looked at him for a while, his mind passing through how Itama knew and what exactly Hashirama was to be able to give them the stars. His hands came down on both their heads and lightly stroked their hair, trying to understand.

His chest felt empty like the skies in daylight when he turned around and hugged them both closer to his chest. Hidden under all those pillows, he let himself one moment to reminiscence and wonder about what if's. Maybe, in another life, this could've all been real. Maybe, he wouldn't have brother shaped holes punched into his heart, maybe he could think properly, maybe he wouldn't have to wonder about how exactly love worked, and instead, know it. Before Madara, he had been- 

Madara. 

He had to stop this. Madara was waiting.

“Started the party without me, huh?” said Hashirama, ducking into the fort. Tobirama stiffened, his body coiling up like a snake ready to strike as his fury unfurled once more, ready to lash out and destroy everything in its path, but he held it in. No matter who they were, kids didn’t deserve to have anger shown in front of them. And these were Ita and Kawa, it didn't matter if they were doppelganger versions of them, Tobirama knew he would never be able to directly cause harm upon anyone that even slightly resembled them.

Hashirama smiled, his face lighting up. Butt it would never be able to disguise the unnatural light of his green eyes or the way his body was oddly misjointed, his teeth too sharp and dangerous, his fingers turned oddly and spindly looking. “Tobi!” he exclaimed, something like honest joy flashing across his face and Tobirama didn’t want to believe it even the littlest but… perhaps the joy was real. He didn't know what exactly was going on, but it all seemed to point to this man, trying to keep him there, and safe. It didn't mean he would stay, it would never mean that, but he had never been good at ignoring truths. This was simply just another.

This man, he harshly breathed, his anger ignited as soon as his eyes stole across his brothers, had dared to use his brothers against him, tried to do so with his friends and Tobirama was furious, even more than when he first went down with the intentions to face him. There'd be so much to pay, and Tobirama would make sure the punishment was more than enough. 

Then, an odd calm settled across his shoulders, his thoughts dissipating like dust in wind and causing panic to crawl across him for a second before it was forced down too. When he raised his head up again, Hashirama was staring at him with furrowed brows that smoothed over the second he saw Tobirama's gaze, a knowing look in his eyes. Tobirama tried to gather his anger once more only to have it seep through his fingers like sand and dissipate, forced down by whatever Hashirama was doing.

Tobirama gave him a cold look. “Hashirama.” Kawarama and Itama looked between them, trying to understand the tension and Tobirama felt his heart break just a bit more. He hated that he was ready to do whatever Hashirama wanted as long as they weren’t worried, as their childish visages stayed the same, as long as he didn't let them down, once more. But that didn’t change it the truth. He had to solve this situation.

Hashirama crawled in, his body bending in impossible ways as he made his way to them, settling down behind Itama. They stared at each other, trying to see if the other would break, before they both stopped at the same time and Tobirama lowered his head.

"They're not real."

Hashirama turned back to him from where they were sitting next to the kids, his eyes glowing just the slightest more.

"Aren't they? Tell me, Tobirama, does this all look fake to you?"

Itama raised his head from where it was buried into his chest, his eyes wide and childishly curious. The white haired man looked back, trying to find the courage in him to say yes, but knowing it would only be a lie. A hand slipped into his. He squezzed it gently when it started to shake, something that felt almost like fear emanating from it.

Tobirama felt tired.

After, Hashirama grabbed his hand in both his, an overexcited look on his face as he dragged the younger man away from their brothers who were whining about Tobirama being taken away to Hashirama. What he hadn't quite expected was how considerate Hashirama had been acting about their feelings, but Hashirama had always been kind to them when they were alive, hadn't he? Tobirama couldn’t help but draw parallels. There was something oddly familiar about the way Hashirama was responding, something that made him feel anxious and wrongfooted. 

Hashirama pulled him by the arm as he followed, oddly lethargic and feeling drained. They passed the stairs and went out the house, the blades of grass swaying gently in the non-existent breeze. When they stopped in front of the shack that had been specific for his experiments, Hashirama gave him a mischievous smile before opening the door gently, turning the doorknob with a soft click before he pushed it open. Tobirama felt his wariness triple as they walked in and he saw-

His lab. Full with everything that he’d ever wanted and hoped for, his experiments and research and his books, all sectioned off with a little place for a couch. The place was gigantic, in fact, it was too big for the shack to contain it and be the size it was. Alarms came back, making another guest appearance as he turned around and looked at Hashirama who was standing in the middle of it, a proud look on his face. “What do you think?”

Tobirama stared at him, his face going blank and dangerous as Hashirama started to ramble. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it, you have your own systems and all that and I wasn’t too sure about it after you kicked me -which, rude, Tobi, what were you thinking, you could’ve hurt yourself- and I wanted to wait till last for this part-“

Tobirama normally wouldn’t. He knew how much of an advantage an amicable target was and he knew it was easier to make them talk, but. _But_ , he was incensed. This Hashirama had not only dared to use almost all his weaknesses against him, he knew them intimately and was ready to use them again too. And Tobirama wouldn't let that stand. Hashirama had to understand.

“Who the hell are you?”

Hashirama froze and looked at him, his smile dropping from his face as he met Tobirsma’s cold and dangerous eyes. Hahirama's body seemed to be unable to keep him in as his soul reached out and Tobirama gasped when he was slammed onto the couch with Hashirama leaning over him, his breath escaping him as his lungs refused to obey. Hashirama smiled at him, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. “I’m your Anija, Tobirama.”

This time, Tobirama wasn’t able to push him away but he had a knife he was willing to use. His hand twitched for it before he realized what was happening and stopped. Hashirama was deliberately provoking him to make him reveal all his cards. Well, Tobirama wasn’t buying it. His face settled into tranquility as he looked up at Hashirama, a dangerous smirk settling on his lips.

No Eldritch horror would cow him. And that doppelganger was definitely an Eldritch horror. 

Hashirama’s body rippled as his skin bled into black for a second before turning back to brown, the entirety of the world seeming to shake under his power. Instead, he nestled into Tobirama’s neck, his breath ghosting over his collarbone.

Tobirama sat completely still, even his breaths shallowing as his mind tried to process...There was no way that was what this Hashirama was going for. But, the older being's hands said different as they travelled down, grabbing around the younger's hips as he pressed a smile to Tobirama’s neck. 

“Years, spent jealous and hiding as you walked around with Madara, laughing and happy and wondrous. And I watched while doing nothing, confused and conflicted. İ would not interfere, as long as you were happy and content. But you’re not happy anymore, are you, Tobirama?”

Tobirama stiffened, his mind stopping for a second as he wondered how in hell-

“I know you. You don’t want Madara to be uncomfortable and the happy way he looks when away from you tears you apart because you hate that you make him even the slightest sadder. In fact-" Hashirama murmured, his hands ghosting up Tobirama’s sides and his mouth raising to whisper in his ear. “-you know he resents you for it. Deep inside and slightly, yes, but you never want to see him that way. And, now, _you_ are the one hurting him.”

Hashirama raised his head, eyes intent on Tobirama’s as they locked gazes. “Stay here.” He breathed, looking half desperate as Tobirama reeled back, his eyes wide and horrified even at the idea. "You'd free Madara from that burden and I'd take _very_ good care of you."

“Stay with you? You’re a liar, and a thief, and I don’t even know what you truly are! You’re a risk to everyone here and _you are crazy_. Leaving Madara alone would hurt him more than not doing so, he loves me.” Tobirama said, something harsh and lashing out struggling in his chest. His mind searched desperately, trying to prove that it was real, that there was something beautiful and unexplainable between them, but somehow, even though he knew Madara loved him and he loved Madara, it all felt so very distant to him, like a faraway star that simply wasn’t glowing bright enough to be seen anymore.

Hashirama tightened his grip on Tobirama’s sides, his eyes burning with madness as his grip got possessive. “Does he though? You know how much he wants to stay in Konoha. Are you sure he wouldn’t prefer that over you? _Are you sure he'd choose you?_ Are you sure your worth, your relationship means that much to him? Come on, _TELL ME!"_

Hashirama breathed harshly, his chest rising up and down as he stared down at Tobirama. Tobirama's attention was drawn to the clock hung on the wall, ticking away merrily as the house groaned under the weight of Hashirama's accusations. Every breath drawn while he didn't refuse it felt like betraying Madara.

He clenched his teeth and stayed quiet.

"I see... Look at him, searching for such materialistic things while you stand there, loyal and ready to do anything he wants. I would never do that to you, Tobirama.” Hashirama leaned in, his hair slipping over his shoulder and tickling Tobirama's cheek while their breaths mingled. “I would always choose you.”

Tobirama gazed back, every bit as stubborn as he was known to be. His hands turned into fists, trying to stop the attack on his beliefs. What a shame it was that it wasn't physical. Maybe it would even work. "Madara isn't like that." 

So what if Tobirama couldn't quite remember how, didn't quite know how to respond? Madara loved him and he loved Madara and they didn't need anything else. What if Tobirama couldn't quite remember how he had explained it, once, what if the back of his neck was burning? -he thought it was because of the eyes he could feel sizing him up.-

He saw Hashirama beginning to answer with a smug look settled on his face, and realized that he had probably just walked into where Hashirama wanted him. That wouldn't do.

“Hashirama didn’t. Why would you?” He interjected, deflecting the other topic and going into the less vulnerable one.

And that was so very true. Once, when they were just kids and there were two brothers left instead of four, a new pain to add to his collection, Tobirama had approached Hashirama, desperately wanting comfort even though his eyes stayed stubbornly dry. He thought it had to do with how his insides had felt emptied out and not Tobirama anymore after what had happened. Hashirama had looked at him, anger across his gaze, and said, _no_ . Then he had run to his new friend and left Tobirama behind, the way he always tended to- well, he tended to when they were four brothers at least. After, however, that was the last time Hashirama had ever been able to do such. Tobirama was strong, stronger and suddenly Hashirama was the one being left behind. He pretended that it didn’t hurt when he was left at the top and so very alone. (It always did, and Tobirama had a lot of experience with, _'always'_ )

The Hashirama of this place smiled pityingly and drew back, giving him that infuriating smile. “Hashirama made a mistake. One I swear to never repeat.”

_But you're apparently the same person_ , Tobirama didn't say, his visage turning stony once more as he buried his distress under cold thoughts.

Hashirama tilted his head, looking at Tobirama consideringly like he knew what he was thinking before continuing. “Remember how he ran away to the woods one day? That day, he found the most curious tree. There, he sat for hours, pouring his heart into it, a giant willow that towered over him.” A dangerous look overcame his face as Tobirama felt horror dawn over him. He didn't quite know what was coming, but he could feel that he would hate it. “It’s never good to do that. He shared his soul with me and became a part of me. I was, however, unaware that it would affect me as well.”

A tender twist to his face did nothing to hide the vicious and dangerous aura that echoed around them, making Tobirama feel on edge. He leant down once more to rest his head on Tobirama's while he raised a hand to cup Tobirama’s cheek. It felt like touching a corpse.

“Have you truly never wondered? The looks he gave you when you weren’t completely looking, the way he would stare at you, so very envious as you laughed with others.” A strange look on Hashirama’s face as Izuna pouted, embarrassed- “The way he never dated or wanted anyone, the way he wanted to move with you-“

“Enough!” Tobirama snapped, pushing Hashirama off him and knowing that he looked like he was in denial while stubbornly trying to not accept it. “Hashirama never wanted that with me. Don’t be obtuse. You’re just using him to further your own goals-“ 

“No.” Hashirama cut in, his voice subzero and his eyes still burning as he hesitated before moving closer once more, perhaps afraid of how Tobirama would react. Their lips almost touched as they stayed like that, Hashirama covering him with their faces close together, on the precipice of something dangerous. “I never would. I am him and he is me. That’s all. And we love you.” 

Then, Hashirama leaned the slightest closer and kissed him, their lips sliding over each other for a second before he pulled back a bit and whispered, gently. “Tobirama. Stay here. I can give you everything you want. Just- just stay here.” Hashirama murmured, their gazes locking as he said the last part and pulling Tobirama in, in, _in_. It felt like deliverance, like fate, to be captivated like this, something in the golden rivers that ran through Hashirama's eyes forcibly pulling him down into it. He was caught in someone’s orbit once more, just like he had been with Madara-

_Madara._

And the spell was broken, his head snapping back as he realized what he was thinking of. His mind rebooted and panic override logic while he grabbed the knife and stabbed Hashirama straight in the stomach, slowly sinking into the muscles of his stomach with a squelch while he panted, staring straight into Hashirama's eyes with golden ichor gushing over his fingers.

Nothing happened for a second as even the clock stopped ticking, the air frozen with disbelief. His eyes were cold as he smirked at Hashirama, his hand twisting the knife before he kicked the other being away the way he kicked Izuna when the Uchiha came too close.

Hashirama let out a roar, his face twisting in pain when his back hit the ground and gold started to pool on the ground. He grasped at the knife, hesitating for a second that had been what Tobirama was counting on, before he snarled. “Get back here!” 

But Tobirama was already off, using his shock and delay as an advantage. Shooting past the garden, he ran for the house while a blast of power burned his mind behind him, agony shaking the leaves of the trees around him. He doubled his speed as Mito leapt from the balcony, her hands grabbing at his clothes even as he shrugged her off and leapt over the fence next to the back of the house, circling the little vegetable garden that Madara had tried to grow there as a hobby. 

He crash landed through the living room window and shielded his face as shards fell down, scratching him slightly and making his arms bleed. Normally, he would hesitate, think about possibilities but there was imply no time and something told him that he would be able to do it. He ran for the room the door was located in, the walls grabbing at him when he had to make sharp turns, and his shoes slipping on the tiles while he tried to keep his speed and balance at the same time. A particularly clingy door grabbed for his hand as he reached the room of the painting and threw it open, practically teleporting to the other wall and slamming against the door painting.

Panic thrummed through him for a second as he checked over the painting, trying to push it open before he laid his hand on the knob, the blood from his cuts smearing all over the white wall. The door swung inside, prompting him to _move, now!_ and he had barely gotten to his feet when a roar echoed in the house, making all of his hackles raise. He didn't know what exactly was going on, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to find out.

He ran through the corridor, the musty scent assaulting his nostrils once more. The way back felt almost longer when a thousand eyes blinked open in the place, glowing a bright red and watching him in almost judging silence, observing his every move. Restlessness buzzed under his skin as he walked down the corridor, finally having managed to calm down to a brisk running walk. He quickened hai pace as a hitting sound echoed in the corridor, the place rattling and groaning under the fury of an Eldritch Horror, as he called them. He resolutely did not look or turn back, keeping his back straight and his face, collected even though he felt anything but. As long as he didn't look back, it wasn't happening. Looking back and causing himself to panic would only make him slow, he reasoned. He approached the other end as the place felt steeper and harder to walk, his hands hitting the door. He shoved at it, forcing the heavy door to open with all his strength as the eyes reached for him, the corridor filling with a gust of wind that tried to pull him back. Tobirama forced himself out and crumpled down on the other side, exhausted and drained. 

His hands shook almost imperceptibly under the pale red moonlight.

\--

“So this is how it’s going to be.” Hashirama muttered, a strange sadness in his chest. No matter how much he resented Madara for stealing Tobirama, he was a good friend. “We’ll go with the next plan. Mito.”

Mito stepped up next to him, her face carefully blank. “Bring him to me. Don’t fail. We don’t want Izuna to stay there forever.”

Mito smirked. “Are you sure? A little silence may help.” 

Hashirama snorted. “I’m sure.”

The pale purple moon hung in the air, the shape of nine dots spinning lightly in it.

\--

Tobirama sat on the ground, his heart beating like he’d never be able to calm again. His hands shook, making him unable to even try to get up and his body felt drained like he had run for miles and never ever stopped. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, lightly resting against the door.

It couldn’t be true. He knew it couldn’t. Tobirama knew that Hashirama had been acting weird and he knew that, _yes Hashirama tended to stare just a bit too long sometimes,_ sometimes his eyes would darken with something that Tobirama didn’t dare name but felt like jealousy. Sometimes, Hashirama would have these unexpected reactions, but it was nothing. The other Hashirama had no reason to tell him the truth. The same could be argued for lying too, perhaps, but it was always easier to lie than to tell the truth. 

It wasn’t just a jest. Hashirama had been lying, just like he had lied about Madara hating him. In that very second perhaps it hadn’t felt that way but now that he was out, his head felt clearer. All the things he said had a forced air to them, like it wasn't his choice to talk like that. 

And the part about Hashirama- Tobirama shuddered. His chest felt like an empty husk, like he was emptied of all thoughts and ideas that had made him different and special, and it was because of what had happened, what it meant if Hashirama _had_ been telling the truth. There was clearly no way that he hadn’t realized his brother doing something so monumental, even if they had been apart during those times, lonely and away from each other, and he wouldn't let something as subjective as _distance_ get in between his understanding of Hashirama. Tobirama had always been careful with his Anija, he would never ignore such a thing. This just proved that Hashirama was lying.

He stubbornly ignored the part that asked how the doppelganger could’ve known about everything he did if not so. The place was already impossible, what was a bit more to add to it. He knew he was being forcefully ignorant and knowingly denying some truths, but this was Hashirama, his Anija, he would never not know if such a thing had happened.

He got up to his feet. This was it. He wasn’t coming back without a flamethrower.

He went over to their room, fast, his breakdown delayed until he got out of the danger zone. He’d have to go back to Konoha as soon as possible and talk with Madara. Madara would believe him. Madara always believed him. They both knew how strange things could be, how crazy the world could get. Madara was safe and he would help.

Tobirama entered their bedroom, his footsteps silent as his hand twisted the doorknob. The bed was as well made as always, with their framed pictures on the nightstand. His hand slowly trailed over a picture of him and Madara laying in grass before his hands clenched, forming fists. The place was a mess. Clothes were strewn about the room, making it look like an explosion site while trinkets of dubious origins rested in the places sectioned for clothes. Their bed had been the only place spared of the chaos, Madara knowing that Tobirama liked it ordered. The white haired man snorted, amusement crashing over him like a tidal wave, before he started to laugh madly, sinking to his knees as his breaths started to come shorter and a crushing pressure was put in his chest, making him unable to _breathe_ and calm down.

 _And that's the panic attack,_ Tobirama thought. His sight was a bit blurry while he sat in the middle of their bedroom, surrounded by discarded clothing and trinkets. It was absurd, really, the way these things seemed to happen to him. The way everything had reached a precipice and toppled over was mundane and unexpected, but when had his life been anything else?

Tobirama was prone to accidents and misunderstandings, especially if his almost marriage to the second in line for the throne of Kiri and being declared a god by the people of kumo said anything, but this was extreme, even for him. He couldn't quite cope well.

He spent a few minutes like that, taking deep breaths and trying to divert his attention to the things that kept him strong. The image of black -red- eyes flashed through his mind, helping him reorient to his original star, to the first black hole that had caught him in his orbit. He sat up slowly, having finally gathered enough courage to go on and trust that he wouldn't falter.

He had wasted enough time.

Changing his clothes within seconds, he stormed through the house, grabbing the car keys and his phone before eyeing the plant on the ground. If nothing else, it would help his case. The clock was ticking like laughter as he walked out, the jingling of the keys mixing with it. He inserted the key into the lock, slowly turning it and feeling safer despite himself when he heard the click. 

He got in the car after leisurely walking across the garden, he didn't want his neighbors to see and add to his testimony as a madman if anything happened, and started it, a plan of action forming in his mind. 

He would have to speak with Madara about it, a second opinion would be helpful, before getting his flame thrower and going back down there to burn that door down. He didn’t know what exactly was up with it but he had the feeling that it had something to do with the painting and that meant it had to go. He wasn’t letting anyone into that place especially when he didn’t know if it was for specific people or just him. -he wasn't quite sure he wanted to learn, anyway- He just wished it wasn’t so _crazy_ . Maybe, had it been less outlandish, he could take it to legal levels, have some back up, something to give him proper defense -he was always impenetrable and best in defense, after all, he had a great mind, but limited resources also limited his options. _He didn't want to have to take drastic measures-_ but it wasn’t and he had a reputation as a budding scientist and his family to consider. What would happen if it got out and they decided he was simply crazy? Or decided asylum was the way to go? What if this put the others in more danger?

He didn’t have a choice, he realized once more, dread crawling across his insides like a particularly stubborn spider. Hashirama's doppelganger had played his hand well.

He had to pick up some things first. Tobirama didn’t know the end goal and so many unknowns were starting to grate on his nerves but- Hashirama had cared about his safety. Maybe, he could play it to his advantage if anything happened and Tobirama was very good at playing to other's weaknesses. He had to be realistic. There was a very large chance that the door wouldn’t be the end of it all but maybe, _maybe_ he could work something out.

\--

He arrived at their old house as the sun started to rise, his insides all twisted and worried as a foreboding feeling settled permenantly in his chest. Parking the car right in front of it, he got out and readied himself for whatever would happen next, what answers Madara may give him. Then, his feet carried him across the garden and through the front door, gracelessly slamming into Hashirama’s house as he did. 

He passed the entrance, not even pausing to hang his light jacket before he walked into the living room, his face barely neutral as he did so.

Izuna raised his head from where he had been sitting on the ground with a knife in his hand, his pupils dilated with surprise. A carved apple rested next to him, making Tobirama's breath catch. There was something very similar to his movements when compared to that of his doppelganger, things that made him feel uncomfortable when comparing the two. Izuna made a surprised sound. 

“Senju. We weren’t expecting you to be here. “ Izuna became suspicious. “Why are you here?”

Tobirama looked him over. There was no way this was the doppelganger. The doppelganger had been pleasant. And anyway, how did he know they could even go out of that place?

He froze. What if they could and had been doing so for years? The times when he’d felt off, like something was wrong in his mind but had dismissed it, the times when he had been weirdly uncomfortable, when his words felt weird to use, when it felt like something was missing, wasn't quite right-

He desperately searched through his memories, scanning every interaction he had had with Mito and Izuna. Hashirama didn’t seem likely to, after all, he had a Hashirama to spy for him- No. He stopped himself. Hashirama didn’t have a spy because Anija was the same and had nothing to do with what was going on. Neither did the others. This was likely the Hashirama doppelganger, using his overactive mind against him. After all, he had known how to predict Tobirama down there, in the Other World. Why shouldn't he be able to, now?

Izuna cleared his throat. “Tobi? Are you okay?” Tobirama turned to him, pasting a smile on his face. It seemingly made it worse because Izuna grew still at the way he was smiling, the worry in his eyes doubling.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He said, his words forcefully calm and steady. “Where is Madara?” 

Izuna continued to give him a weird, worried look. “There is something red in your hair. Are you su-“ 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Tobirama snapped and then, he took a deep breath. Izuna didn’t mean any harm. There was blood in his hair, it was normal. “It’s paint. Where is Madara?” His voice was cold like chipped ice as he repeated himself, finally reaching the end of his patience.

Izuna flinched back at his tone, starting to look worried for his sanity. “Mito called for him a while ago, Hashirama was with them.” He murmured, his eyes averted. “Tobi…” He continued, lightly hesitating. “You’ve been acting weird lately. With all those sudden decisions and all. Are you okay?” 

Tobirama looked at him, horror across his face as he remembered what Mito had said. Start over. Pieces started to fall into place as Izuna stared back at him, past the point of just worried for his mental health. 

“I asked for Madara?” Mito said, her eyebrows raised as she came into the room. “Interesting. I must’ve developed a sudden amnesia because I remember no such thing.”

Tobirama closed his eyes as his worst case scenario unraveled before his eyes, the inevitability of it managing to make him furious.

“Umm, yeah? Hashirama came in and said you were calling for him and then they left together?” 

“You asked for him so he could answer for your missing cup, remember, Mito? And then we got caught up in the garden.” Hashirama said, moving in from the garden as he dusted off his clothes. Mito raised an eyebrow at him, seming to question the way he intervened, before acquising. “Yes. But ı never saw him. Did you get caught up before that?” Hashirama gave her a sheepish smile then turned around and met Tobirama’s eyes.

Tobirama felt a chill down his back as those eyes darkened before going back to normal. No matter how he tried to convince himself that it was a play of light and that Hashirama had explained what had happened, he couldn’t ignore the way his instincts went haywire, his mind growing alert with each second.

Hashirama moved towards him, a blinding smile lighting his face as light reflected off the golden parts of his irises. Tobirama froze. Hashirama didn’t have green-golden eyes. Hashirama’s eyes had been brown when he was born and when he was a kid and up until-

His breath stuttered in his chest. Tobirama tended to overlook physical attributes because of his innate ability to see through them into others’ souls but-

Hashirama’s eyes had been brown until their fight, until he had _run away to the woods_. He could distinctly remember asking what had happened to them but he didn’t remember getting an answer. Had he not seen the picture in the other house he would never realize this, something that made him his teeth set in edge. What else had he missed about the situation that would've helped him understand better, earlier? What else was he still missing? Maybe, the eye color didn't have to do with any of it. Maybe, it had been just false memories, maybe- Tobirama stopped himself. He knew he was just in denial.

His breath was knocked out of his lungs as Hashirama grabbed him in a hug, his arms squeezing Tobirama and lifting his feet slightly off the ground. Tobirama panicked, the loss of gravity and control jarring him as his feet kicked out. He shoved at Hashirama, falling backwards and pushing his brother towards the couch, then stared at him, eyes blown wide.

There was silence as everyone looked at Tobirama, trying to understand what was going on. Tobirama knew what they were thinking of. Mito was giving him an incredulous look while Izuna seemed like he was about to look for the nearest mental institution, causing Tobirama to feel discomfited. 

Hashirama quickly masked his smile as Tobirama gazed at them, knowing everything was going well.

Tobirama looked at them, panic clawing at his throat, and tried to smooth it over. “Sorry, had a long day. I just have to speak with Madara.” They looked at him for a few more seconds, an uncertain aura around them before Hashirama chirped up. “He decided to move out early to surprise you.”

Tobirama whirled around, his uncertainty over whether the same thing, thinking he was a bit off in the head, would happen with Madara vanishing. “You just said you were in the garden?”

Hashirama gave him a look like he thought Tobirama was being obtuse and Tobirama curled up tighter in his mind, ready to spring. “We were. Then he decided to move out early because you said that things were almost done and he wanted to meet you.”

Hashirama was lying. Tobirama knew it like he knew the air he breathed and his own mind. He had lived with that man, _his Anija,_ for years, and there was no way he wouldn’t recognize his tells.

 _But he hadn’t recognized his eyes, had he?_

He forcefully shut that thought down, putting it next to the part that kept on saying he hadn’t seen any of those tells on lying on the Hashirama doppelganger. They weren’t the same person, their tells would be different. 

But weren’t they the same person? Their eyes were the same and he was treating Hashirama like an enemy for it, pretending that they were, or could be, the same person but he was saying that they weren't the same, that the tells were supposed to be different?

It didn't make sense. He felt something ugly and angry burn in his chest, the way his mind was scrambling to make everything logical and rational and not so wrong when put together, made it burn brighter, made his breathing quicken for a second before he pushed it down, away from the forefront of his mind.

He didn’t know. He didn’t _want_ to know, because the truth was dangling in front of him, damning in its existence. 

He gave Hashirama a cold look, his feelings hidden behind his subzero reactions, and decided that it was time to handle this. Everything was starting to spiral, and Tobirama hated chaos. He had to go back down. “I’ll be taking my leave then.” 

He left as the others looked behind him, storming off to take care of the problem.

He had a flamethrower to get.

\--

Tobirama got out of the car as the sun started to go down, leaving only the pale silver moon and the wispy starlight to keep him company. He straightened up, adjusting his hold on his pack and started to walk through the garden with a confident pace. Leaves rustled as wind blew through them, the old willow by the bridge swaying gently in the breeze. He reaced tge porch and reached for his key, preparing to unlock the door when the door slowly creaked open, groaning and loud and a reminder of old decisions. He looked at it for a second before deciding to just go with it pushed it wider, the doorknob seeming to tangle between his fingers for a second before the feeling disappeared. Unease bubbled up under his skin, the display the clearest sign that the Other World could affect his. His hand came up to the knife hidden in his jacket that he got from his old room before leaving Hashirama’s house. He didn't like the things that such an ability, such knowledge implied. Tobirama stared down at the area it was hidden in for a minute, thinking of contingency plans and actions, all the things that he hoped that he wouldn't have to use.

He slowly relaxed when nothing else happened, nothing like screams or vines jumping out of the shadows, allowing his chest to ease up. Tobirama raised his chin, a steely look flashing across his eyes as he regained his previous confidence and steeled himself once more before walking in. His hand slowly lowered from it's guarded and ready to act position, concealing the act as a move of defense to any who may have been watching. This was only the beginning, no use revealing his hand so early.

The shadows danced across the white and pristine tiles as he crossed the living room, the curious absence of the dirt and pot on the ground making him pause for a second before he scoffed. Of course Hashirama didn’t want to leave any proof for Tobirama to prove him wrong, or real, with. If he was honest and knew Tobirama as well as he said he did, and it honestly seemed that way because Tobirama had been thinking on it on and off the entire road and it made too much sense, he would know that Tobirama would take any chance he could to prove his sanity and validity on the off chance that he lost the battle and had to resort to more drastic measures.

Tobirama still would. He fingered the recorder that was hidden in his pocket and smiled to himself. Hashirama had no idea who he was dealing with. The game had just begun.

Tobirama continued his walk through the house, his steps light and self-assured in his confidence. Dangling from the ceiling were little cobwebs, giving the feeling that no one had ever lived in the place. The doors creaked in the night breeze as he passed them, all of the windows closed and glinting like a giant monsters teeth, the walls rippling with shakes as the world itself stood still. Tobirama snorted at his own wording. There were no monsters.

Monsters were what one’s fears became when they were helpless against them, lonely, abandoned and scared, manifesting as the worst fear and the most abstract thought of the mind. And Tobirama was never helpless. Helpless would be what one became when they didn't have any weapons or plans, when they didn't have a choice that they would've had, had there been resources. Tobirama always had his mind and his ability to think, gaining him the resources he would need through his ability to think ahead. He would never be left choiceless.

He slowly reached the room the mural was located and his feet carried him in, his harsh footsteps fully silent even though they shouldn’t have been. 

Frozen, in the air, were thousands of snowflakes, gleaming under the shifting moonlight while they casually defied physics. Tobirama ignored them, they weren't the craziest things he had seen that day.

The room had a slight haze in it, like there was a fog, settled over the ground and curled into every crack and crevice, and Tobirama reached out, his hand cautious as he considered that maybe Hashirama had changed his mind about keeping Tobirama safe. 

He hadn’t. 

Ice particles clung to his skin as he walked further into the room and towards the painting, little snowflakes settling on his hair and his lashes. The flakes that were frozen in the air began to spin slightly as he did so, making him realize that the snow wasn’t snow. He moved faster, his hand scrambling for the painting and hitting the wall. He stared at his hand, the feeling of wood that had dominated the painting all the times before having slipped into the cold and solid feeling of a normal, not a portal into anywhere, wall.

Dread began to fill him. This wasn’t possible, he had gone down there before and he knew that the place was real, even though the how’s and why’s were still up in the air. His breath began to quicken as he thought about proof. The dirt was gone, only pristine tiles were left, the door was gone too and Hashirama really hadn’t been acting any different… Maybe it had all been a hallucination, a dream-?

But the snow was still there. There should’ve been no way for this to exist but it did and that was only a part of the things that had been his day. There had been red in his hair when he had seen Izuna, even though there shouldn't have been, which proved that he couldn't have been hallucinating the snow too. He reached for his arms for a final confirmation, shoving his sleeved up before feeling for the cuts from hurling himself through the glass and relaxing when his fingers found the patches of torn skin. He had proof.

As he did, his nail caught one and accidentally scratched at it, reopening one of the smaller wounds. Blood gathered on his fingertips, just enough to dribble down his fingers. Tobirama grimaced and wiped his fingers against his jeans, he didn't quite have the time to go wash his hands because every second was an advantage and Madara was in danger, before leaning his hand against the painting once more, wondering where the trail of blood from the other day had gone. He stiffened in surprise as his hand met wood, the door slowly pushing open in front of his eyes. He stared at it incredulously, an idea forming in his head.

It seemed that the door had specific conditions to be opened. He wondered what had changed as a cloud passed in front of the moon, burying the room into darkness and making him squint to see the door, his sight had never been good, and all the reading and dark wasn't doing him any favors. Tobirama took a deep breath and slowly stepped inside, his pupils dilating to adjust to the dim tunnel. The feeling of hundreds of eyes looking at him and sizing him up made the hairs on the back of his head stand up. It was finally time.

Tobirama walked through the tunnel, the very place seeming to get longer the more he walked. He was confused as he felt like the tunnel didn’t want him there, thus, made his way longer. His burrows furrowed as he thought, it did not make any sense. The tunnel would’ve been trying to make the trip shorter, for it knew he was walking straight into Hashirama’s trap and _they_ didn’t know he had leverage. Unless…

Tobirama’s breath caught. Unless they knew he was going for Madara and Hashirama wasn’t going to be able to stop him. But how? Hashirama wasn’t weak, he had proved that, at least. What could be able to stop him from blocking Tobirama in what was about to be a legendary escape?

Tobirama pondered for a while, his feet carrying him across the place, and then leaned a hand against the tunnel to see if he could analyze what it was from. İt wasn't like it would be something that would potentially harm him, not when Hashirama wanted to keep him safe. Putting things potentially harmful to him all around him while he was in the dark would be counterproductive to that. 

That was why he startled when something sharp caught his hand, slicing through it and causing it to bleed. He pulled back fast, his heart beat doubling in seconds.

He grimaced. That was a stupid move. Assuming that he wouldn’t get hurt just because Hashirama didn’t want him hurt, and acting like it gave him invincibility was arrogant. Izuna’s words should’ve made him realize that.

He raised his hand to his face, trying to see the damage even though he had a good idea what exactly had happened. That was when it clicked. Tobirama had stabbed Hashirama, sending him to the floor with the pain and unable to follow after him even though he knew Hashirama was very strong. Maybe, it had made him unable to properly defend himself from Tobirama? Especially since he was also trying to convince the white haired man, and do so without harming him.

It had even been the beginning of his idea about a flame thrower, and the other knife he grabbed from his old stash.

(He would’ve gone for a Tanto or a Katana for the reach but that would’ve meant they’d be visible and he needed all the advantages he could get, especially surprise. He wouldn’t be able to handle Hashirama when they were in long range anyway. Tobirama didn’t exactly know the extent of his abilities but he knew that the world itself bent to his will and the only way Tobirama would be able to escape its scope would be to stay close to him, instead of away and in perfect reach of the vines, at which point things seemed to get messy. Case in point, he wasn’t able to stop Tobirama from stabbing him but had been able to use the vines to lure him in.)

Tobirama ran his mind over the plan again.

He had the feeling he was going to hinge everything on his last ploy. He didn’t want to but he knew. He knew he would do it, even if it was something he hoped he wouldn't have to, as long as Madara would be able to get out of it safely. That was all he wanted at that point. He knew even his own escape wasn’t guaranteed because the situation was so unknown, his own escape and his own preferences on how. (He really didn’t want to think about it, how everything could go horribly wrong, how Hashirama could understand-.) But. He would, he would do it.

Either way, he had enough plans, advantages and weapons.

He reached the end of the tunnel.

His non injured right hand leaned against the door once more, trying to push it open while he did, but it didn’t seem like it wanted to be pushed open. Tobirama narrowed his eyes, thinking of the one thing that was in every single time he had opened the doors. İt was not timing, or about force. The door had been under different lighting and had been in contact with nothing but his hand and- oh.

The gaze of a hundred watched him and judged his every move as he slowly lifted the other hand and smeared the blood over the door.

The door made a creaking sound as it opened, the golden haze of the house falling on his eyes once more. Tobirama squinted as he realized that the place seemed almost dim under the moonlight when he walked in, the house seeming old and dusty. There were cobwebs at the corners, decorating the house with an almost cold and worrying quality. The doors made creaking sounds and the house groaned under the wind that came through the closed windows. Light reflected off the dusty mirrors while Tobirama travelled through the empty corridors, the shadows of the trees outside dancing for his return.

He stepped out as the moon showed up once more, the cloud that had been hiding it having passed. Tobirama raised his head, a contemplating look on his face. There was someone there.

The wind stilled as he stood in front of the door, beginning to move forward before the sound of a fast projectile was carried across the air. Tobirama threw himself to the side as the kitchen knife Izuna liked embedded itself into the door he had been standing in front seconds ago, his instincts faster than his conscious mind.

Mito jumped down from the balcony, her red hair looking like fire under the moonlight, violently reminding Tobirama of Madara and his smile. He pulled himself back forcefully, wondering why he associated red to Madara.

Izuna and Mito stood side by side in front of him as he moved into position, his hand reaching for his pack before he decided to leave it for desperate times. Izuna met his gaze for a second, a connection made, before Tobirama lunged for the knife that had been thrown at him in an attempt to gain a weapon, barely able to pull it out and duck as two more followed him. The Senju started to run towards them as he brandished the knife like a sword and engaged Izuna while trying to keep the Uchiha between him and Mito, protecting him from her stilettos. 

He dodged a slash for his abdomen as Mito managed to reach his side, her high kick sending him down to the ground where he rolled down to a kneeling stance. He grabbed dirt from there, flinging it at her eyes when she followed him down to knock him out. The grass tried to snag him while she yelped, her hands going to her eyes instinctively, and he kicked out, knocking her down. Slamming her head to the ground, he took a deep breath, preparing for how Izuna would react to Mito's fail.

Izuna lunged for him, anger palpable across his face. “How dare you-“ but Tobirama was faster, his hand with the knife shot up while he twisted and pulled Izuna down around the waist, forcing his stomach onto the blade. Izuna choked, golden blood gushing from the wound as Tobirama pushed him to the side.

He stood up while Izuna was still on the ground and curled in a foetal position and went to grab another knife from the ground when Mito hit his back, having gotten up while he was distracted by Izuna. The elbow to his back drove him to his knees, and he stayed like that, wary of her reaction.

“Did you honestly think you’d be on time?” Mito asked, her eyes stuck in a glare as she gave him a bemused smile. 

_The purple moonlight shone into his eyes, mesmerizing in its glow._

“You can’t do it, Tobirama. Hashirama will always be faster than you. It’s already done. Look? The grass is more active already. He is happy.”

Tobirama stared at her as the now familiar feeling of dread returned, knocking his breath out. Rage churned under his skin, all consuming and scorching when contained within his veins. He would have to let it out.

His gaze cut across her and into the skyline, his hands curled into fists. The grass was indeed more active. İt meant he could finally do it. He grabbed the pack he’d discarded while rushing towards Izuna and grabbed the flamethrower inside without a pause. His fingers curled over the trigger while he held it up and aimed, the world going silent in his head.

Mito had no time to realize what was happening before the flames started to rush towards her, catching her straight in the face. The world around them burned as the flames jumped to the grass that was swaying gently, unaware of the danger, and the wind carried it far and wide.

Tobirama stood up, a deadly glare painted on his face while he lightly shielded it with his sleeve and approached Mito. 

_“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”_

The scent of burning flesh lingered in his nose as he passed her, her screams echoing in the night air. He had a lover to protect and no one would be getting in his way.

He walked towards the shack, something in the recesses of his mind whispering that it was what he was looking for. The shadows twisted and pulled at his ankles, trying to reach for him in the flicker of their existence, cast from the light and forever cold.

The flames caressed his face and reflected off his eyes as he continued to ignore them, focused on crossing the garden and getting to the one person he would do all of this over and over again. 

He looked like a fallen god in that moment, with the burning red of his eyes and the way his hair was flickered with the shadows of his mind.

Tobirama slowly pushed the door open, feeling the precipice of something great hanging in the air. 

The scent of death hit his nose before he even saw it.

There, in the middle of the room laid a crumpled form, neck bent at an unnatural angle as the inhuman stillness took over the place. Tobirama felt his breath gush out as his eyes widened, his mind entirely refusing it. He rushed next to the body, falling to his knees next to the dead form of his lover.

His eyes took in the absolute stillness of Madara’s chest as his hands shook, his breath coming out in gasps. Madara's hair was sprawled around them, sticky with blood that had once been warm. The absolute lack of color on his skin signifyied that it had been longer than just a few minutes, unlike Mito had implied.

It couldn't be. Madara couldn't be _dead_. There was so much they were going to do, they had plans to travel the world, to join a book club to get Madara to read more. They were supposed to go to Kumo again, next summer, to check on the town that had declared him a god.

_Gods weren't so helpless._

He laid his fingers on his lover's neck, thinking that maybe, _maybe-_ but it stayed the same. He sat there like that, the cold skin under his fingers unmoving and _gone_. A shaky breath escaped him, his sight going blurry. He tried the wrist after that, because maybe he had just missed the neck, desperately hoping that that was all, even as blood shone in front of his eyes, red and damning and so very terrifying in its symbolism. 

He felt like the ground had just fallen out from under him, like nothing would ever feel happy, or alright, or good, ever again. The end of his stability was near, and he had already outlived his own apocalypse, so what did it matter if he would never be the same again?

He leaned over Madara, a few years dribbling down his face while he brushed the gigantic mane behind his ears. His hands were shaking.

Madara's face was pale as he had never been in life, his features lax like he was just sleeping, like he would wake up if Tobirama made the slightest sound, like this was all just a prank that he was pulling on Tobirama, one Tobirama would forgive him for, no matter how cruel it was, as long as he just _woke up_ -

His eyes caught upon the wound at Madara’s side, blood slowly dripping from the gigantic stomach wound. 

His breath left him in a gush, like he was punched in his stomach, and a pained sound escaped his lips. His hands scrabbled over Madara's torso, settling gently on the wound. Like that, it seemed like there was nothing wrong, _he is just sleeping, it's okay,_ like Madara was just laying down and playing dead with some paint that he had borrowed from the shack, because there was no way he would bleed that-

Tobirama froze.

“I really didn’t want to.” Came Hashirama’s hated voice, echoing in the empty room like sound off of ice. Tobirama clenched his hands in Madara’s clothes, his spine going rigid as an all consuming hatred roared to life. He whirled around and up, his face twisted in anguish and fury, and walked until they were nose to nose, his anger almost touchable a thing.

“You didn’t want to? You didn’t want to? What the hell do you think you’ve done? _Do you honestly think I’ll let you live after this?”_ Tobirama roared, his voice shaking the shack.

His hand went to his jacket, all thoughts of finesse or planning forgotten because Madara was dead and he was alone and _oh god Madara was dead_ . His hands almost shook as he moved with a speed unachievable by even him and lunged for the doppelganger, original, whatever he was, because Tobirama didn’t care anymore, all he knew was that he was going to kill him and enjoy every second of it before he, _he-_

_He didn't know._

He was barely a flash when he brandished the hunter knife, his arm swinging out and trying to catch Hashirama in the face while the other dodged. Hashirama gazed back, his eyes wide in surprise, before Tobirama managed to catch him in the arm, tearing through his clothes like knife through a butter. Drops of blood flew after the knife and splattered the ground, staying there for a few second before they disappeared into the wood of the floor.

“Enough!” Hashirama roared back, his face twisting into rage reminiscent of Tobirama's own. _Good_ , Tobirama thought, _he should be_.

Under his skin, where muscles and bones and blood ( _a soul_ ) used to exist, there was nothing left but a growing void, ever expanding after it burst into non-existence minutes ago, soon to overwhelm his finite insides and reach out. 

_“_ I warned you, I told you that I didn’t want to resort to desperate measures, why didn’t you just listen to me, just _stay_?”

Tobirama snarled at him, unable to articulate with the rage scorching his veins. “Stay? Why should I? You killed him! You killed the man you once called best friend, you killed the one thing that İ cared about enough to-" his breath failed him, a silence growing in his throat.

"How could you?” his voice broke over the last part, his head slipping into pain and denial, trying desperately to avoid the void left in the place where firehomepassion had always burned within his mind.

Hashirama softened against him, his face growing sympathetic as he approached Tobirama and grabbed the knife before throwing it aside. Tobirama stared at him blankly, his mind still a burning patch of life as he tried to go back to old delusions. Maybe he had been right and it was a hallucination from the chemicals, something to really kickstart his pain-

His chest quievered as he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head.

It couldn't have been a _hallucination_. The pain was too real, the warmth and cold processing normally- but did it really matter? Madara, was dead. He would rather trick himself into believing it was just a hallucination, a nightmare. He would rather that, to the reality he found himself stuck in, prefer to live the dream when Madara was missing from the reality.

“You should’ve just listened to me.” Hashirama murmured. He then leaned in, his arms grasping Tobirama in a hug that Tobirama would’ve called tender a day ago. Right then though, he could only flinch back, his mind assaulted with images of Madara doing the same. 

Hashirama’s arms tightened when he did, the dangerous aura resurfacing once more. His soul started to become all encompassing, pressing down on Tobirama's own, and the pressure was almost too much to stand up under. His breath turned into gasps, the arms squezzing him tight in a way that stopped him from breathing properly. His panic was only added to while his mind became a constant thrum of, 'don't let him find it, don't let him find it, don't-'

_(He wasn't sure he could breathe right even if there was nothing around him, constricting and binding in its existence.)_

“He’s gone, Tobirama.” Hashirama murmured in Tobirama’s ear, the breath ghosting over his ear and making him shake even more. “Now you can stay with me.”

Tobirama stiffened slowly once more, incredulity filling him. “You killed him.” He said slowly, pressing on each word harshly. “And you think I’m going to stay here?”

Hashirama leaned back, a benevolent smile on his face. “Of course. He was the only thing keeping you from me.” Hashirama chirped, an ugly emotion hidden under his words making them sound even worse. 

Tobirama would’ve likened it to jealousy, had it been minutes ago, but he was turning his higher functions off as time went on, doing his best to keep from thinking. Thinking meant being reminded of things, and that meant thinking of _Madara. And Madara was gone, and they had done so much together, and they would never do it again, and Tobirama had forgotten to treasure their last adventure together, or to laugh at the last pun he had made and he hadn't kissed Madara good night the last week-_

_There was warm skin under his face as Madara leaned against him, a mane as wild as its owner brushing his cheeks, and breakfast on Sunday mornings, and he hadn't leaned on Madara that morning, hadn't said 'i love you' the day before, and he had always avoided talking about how some things made his heart flutter and how he would like to do them again-_

And now, he never could.

He couldn’t think any more. His breath came out as a sob again, the salty tears burning his throat for daring to keep them in.

“You wouldn’t want the same to happen to others, would you?”

Tobirama slowly raised his head from its lost position, his fury climbing once more. What was he talking about? The same? _To others?_ Why should Tobirama care? Madara was lying on the ground behind him, his ever burning soul gone as his eyes gazed emptyly, as Tobirama felt his heart try to beat on the ground, laid next to his lover's prone form, an identical gash torn into his soul throbbing like an ache that would never pass, as too little blood dripped from the wound on his lover-

Too little blood.

His breath caught upon the realization, his mind seeking out the little inconsistencies in the place. The light golden shimmer of what little blood there was, the fact that there was a veil like substance falling over his mind and making him feel slow in a way different than grief, a feeling that just told him he was right.

“I thought so.” Hashirama said, victory palpable in his voice. He tilted his head from where he had moved next to Tobirama, a curious light in his eyes. "Snow suits you."

Tobirama had learned to trust his instincts long ago.

Hashirama changed tactics. “Stay here, Tobi. Isn’t it real as long as you decide it’s real? There is nothing different from the outside world. If you want adventure, I can give it to you, excitement, fun, anything. Your friends and our family, _everyone and everything._ Is it really worth it to fight me this much? Why don't you just agree? Why resist? Tell me.”

Tobirama slowly raised his hands up, one of them grabbing Hashirama’s in one last attempt to fix this situation. He looked up, and knew, they were far past the point of going back. He met Hashirama’s gaze imploringly as the other one slowly reached for the gun hidden in his waistband.

“Hashirama,” he breathed softly, leaning into the taller man’s ear and whispering there. Hashirama leaned in too, a shudder going through his body before he smiled at Tobirama. “You still don’t know how to lie.”

In a swift move Tobirama pulled out the gun while spinning away, aiming straight for Hashirama’s chest. He slowly intoned. “Where. Is. Madara.”

Hashirama froze, his face becoming a mask of incredulity before it slowly lifted, leaving warm affection in its wake. Tobirama ignored his uneasiness while it did, his mind linking that look with crazy adventures and plans that went okay because Hashirama had stupid luck.

He didn’t want that luck turned on him.

“Oh, Tobira. I should’ve known not to underestimate you. Really, my fault.” Hashirama said, his voice warm despite the way he was eyeing the gun. “You were looking for Madara?” 

The Eldritch Horror waved his hand, making the room ripple as it lengthened, the walls drawing back like they were just waves and there, just before them, stood Madara in all his wild haired and groggy glory. Tobirama’s breath caught, the empty feeling slowly edging away as he tried to calm his racing heart. Then he stopped, trying to stay calm and cool. If this was another illusion-

He knew he would never be able to recover.

Madara was bound, his hands handcuffed together behind his back in a position that was absolutely not good. Tobirama winced in sympathetic pain. Madara looked at them, his eyes wide, before his usual temper made its appearance.

“What the hell, Hashirama!” Madara yelled, his hands very obviously trying to flail with his usual eloquence but unable to. “What is this?”

Madara sent Tobirama look, his eyes wide with disbelief as they stole across the body crumpled on the ground. Hashirama scowled, mad at being interrupted and having his time with Tobirama cut off. 

“What is that?” Madara said, his eyes intent on the body. Tobirama decided it was time to cut in and save his lover the trauma.

“Nothing worth mentioning, Madara, love. Just don’t look in that direction, okay?” Tobirama said, his voice barely masking the relief he felt. His face was just slightly expressive, his heart beating a mile an hour as he accommodated the knıowledge, making him feel slightly light headed.

“Why did you do it?” Tobirama asked Hashirama, his head slightly tilted to keep the doppelganger within his sight while he raked his eyes over Madara, double and triple checking for any injuries. Madara gazed back, something worried in his red gaze at the sight of his partner’s obvious panic and relief, trying to do his best to comfort Tobirama. Tobirama felt his heart warm at the obvious gesture of affection, allowing the comfort of it seep over him for a second before turning back to Hashirama. It wasn’t over. Not even close.

Hashirama laughed lightly, something dark and ugly in his tone, a jealousy that Tobirama could sense taking him over. “You were there because of him. I could feel it. No matter who or what I could replicate, as long as you had him there, you would never stay, Tobi. It wouldn't matter if I did something to replicate him either, because you'd desire the real one, whereas doppelgangers would've been enough to convince you for anyone else.” Hashirama shrugged, carefully circling Tobirama. “I would rather not kill him, he still had other uses after all. As an incentive, maybe, rather than just a way to destabilize you, or prompting.” 

Tobirama stiffened, the mere idea that Hashirama would dare use Madara like that almost tipping him over the edge, into madness.

But there was something else there, something much less obvious than what Hashirama was saying. Even so, he could’ve tricked Tobirama with the dead puppet. Tobirama knew his own capabilities but even with all of those abilities, he couldn't fully guess at that, especially if he was drugged like he suspected he was. There had to be something else that kept Hashirama from killing him. Hashirama’s words echoed in his brain.

‘I really didn’t want to.’ His breath hitched. Madara sent him a wary look, his body tense even though they all knew he wouldn’t be able to do much in the situation. Tobirama was rather impressed that he was able to keep quiet and bide his time like that but Madara had always been surprising, if nothing else. “You like Madara.” He said, the words simple but so very heavy.

Because if Hashirama was willing to part with things that he liked just to keep Tobirama with him, then how far would he truly go?

Hashirama hummed, the light tone echoing in the silence that fell just before. “Hashirama was rather fond of him. And he is a rather amusing person to watch, won’t you say, Tobirama?”

Tobirama forced his anger down, recognizing the attempt to provoke him and Madara both. It wasn’t that easy. “You’re planning to keep him here to make me stay.”

Hashirama beamed, his face the very picture of bliss. “Tobi! Always so smart, my precious otouto.” Tobirama didn’t even know if Hashirama was serious or sarcastic, but he knew one thing. He absolutely couldn’t let that happen.

“No.” Hashirama pouted at him when he said that, stepping closer and leaning in once more. Their faces were barely an inch apart.

“And what are you going to do to stop me?” The barrel of the gun hit the doppelganger's chest, Hashirama smiling at him as he stopped right in front of Tobirama. The tension was almost visible as only the sound of Tobirama and Madara breathing could permeate the silence. Hashirama bent his neck to close the gap and put his lips near Tobirama's ear, his hair swinging in front of him as he playfully whispered. 

“Let’s list your options here, shall we? I won’t let you go whatever you do, even though a bargain can be cut for him. Even if you manage to shoot me fast enough to kill me, the vines will retaliate, killing him instantly. If you somehow manage to escape those, this world will collapse with me, erasing your existence. ”

Hashirama turned to look at Madara, a sardonic and almost hostile look on his face. “Wouldn’t he look so pretty, all still and pale like the puppet, To-bi-ra?”

Tobirama shuddered, his face draining of blood while Hashirama said those things, his mind imposing the picture of Madara with the pale and still body still laying on the ground to his eyes.

The familiar beat of his heart accompanied the fear he felt drowned in, his blood rushing in his ears. He couldn't let that happen, he had things that he wanted to tell Madara, promises and plans to make and he couldn't do that if-

_If Madara's blood dripped from his fingers, staining the wooden floor as Tobirama felt his world halt to a stop-_

“Stop with the mindfuck, Hashirama, and tell us properly what the hell is going on.” Tobirama startled back to the moment, his brief moment of spacing out noticed by Madara, who was still watching him. He felt his heart warm for a brief moment, realizing that Madara had done it to help him.

Hashirama turned back to Madara, an irritated smile on his face. “Tobirama is staying here. Permanently. As are you, unless Tobirama can bargain-” the look turned sharp as his voice darkened. _“-and make it something good.”_

Tobirama shook slightly, the tone making something entirely hindbrain in him, shiver. His mind went darker, he knew this was his fault. He should’ve been talking with Madara from the very second it had all begun, not trying to play the hero and go down alone, putting Madara at risk of being kidnapped like that. He should’ve been communicating more, planning more, not moving from the house that had been safe, not taking jobs that wouldean unrooting his lover from his balance, he should've, _should have_ , **_should have-_ **

This was all his fault. He had to get Madara out of the mess he had dragged him into, just by being who he was and loving him. The last thought cut something in him sharply, making him choke on the pain. It was true, wasn't it? This had all started because of him, because of someone or something focusing on him while he didn't pay attention, or try to discourage it. It was his fault for letting it continue.

“Bargain something good huh?” Tobirama said, a bitter smile appearing on his face. He had somehow guessed it would end this way, something in him resigned to doing this. It didn't matter how many social taboos he would be breaking, he had to protect Madara. It would be worth everything, as long as he could manage that. 

“How about this?” the barrel of the gun turned, fast as lightning, and pressed against the side of his head, a harsh, unyielding pressure on his skull.

A choked scream escaped Madara. His eyes went wide and he almost took a step before he froze at the promising look on Tobirama’s face. Hashirama reacted even worse, his eyes opening wide and the entire room rippling in its place, the ground shaking and jumping before settling down once more. Tobirama just stared at them, his chest aching at the pain on Madara’s face. It would all be okay. He wouldn’t need to do it. He knew Hashirama. He would never let Tobirama do it even though Tobirama knew, as long as it would work, he would. He would, for Madara. 

He didn’t want to have to, but he would. Because sometimes, when he closed his eyes, the only thing that could center him was Madara, sometimes, when he felt at the bottom, Madara was there, lightening up the dark depths of the ocean that Tobirama was with his smile and his sunlike soul.

“Let him go, or I will do it. You know I will, because that is the truth you’ve been trying to escape, the very thing that pushed you so very far. You know ı will do anything, for him.” For Madara, everything was possible, everything was readily given.

“No.” Madara said, a panicked look on his face, his arms desperately trying to free themselves but Hashirama wasn’t taking any chances then. The floor slowly grew out, dragging Madara in. Tobirama snarled when it did, his anger coating the room, and it seemed to shake under the meeting of two titans. 

“Tobirama you can’t. Please. Not for me.” Tobirama pressed the barrel against his skull even harder, the cool metal giving him a measure of comfort. For once, since he had walked down there, he had a certain amount of controlling over the situation. Because ever since he woke up, it had all been a mess of manipulation and half truths, coating his head in their sticky sweetness.

He was tired of it.

Hashirama slowly approached from his place between Madara and Tobirama, where he had gone after revealing Madara was alive, his arm raised slightly while he threw a panicked look at Tobirama, “Tobi. Tobi don’t.”

They stared each other down, two unstoppable forces crashing together. He knew where it was going. 

Hashirama stood still for a few seconds before fury crossed his face, snapping out, “Fine I’ll let him go, just lower the gun. Please. _Please_.”

Tobirama stared at Hashirama, reading the subtext. He was right. Hashirama would let only Madara go, because why should he let Tobirama? Tobirama was what he wanted, and if he didn’t have Tobirama, what did it matter if Tobirama was dead? It had always been only a question of if Madara would stay too.

It didn’t really change anything for Hashirama. 

Tobirama would stay there because it didn’t matter if he could walk out as long as Madara could, nothing mattered anymore. Maybe the weight of this realization should’ve brought him to his knees, but Tobirama had known it was coming all along. He could only smile bitterly at the timing. _Just when he no longer could_ _say it._

It wouldn’t matter anyway. Tobirama would stay there, as long as Hashirama wanted, if Madara would be safe. He would stay there, an empty feeling in his chest, his eyes blank. And it wouldn’t really change anything because the world in there was the same. The only difference would be Madara, and as long as Tobirama closed his eyes tight enough, blocked out the intrusive feeling of pain and loss, it would be good. 

What was reality anyway? Wasn’t reality what a person made of it? As long as he decided to make this his own, would it really be all that different?

And the worst thing, Tobirama didn’t know. The creeping feeling that, had Madara been in this Other World and happy to be so, he would’ve stayed happily scared him too much to think about it. He wouldn’t have worried about Hashirama being in love with him, or trying to woo him, and his only worry would be Madara being okay with everything. His emotional attachments were very abstract anyway. He had no real reason to reject Hashirama except Madara's feelings on the matter, and the way that it had all been revealed to him. He just hadn’t wanted to accept, at the time, but that was because the only thing he could focus on was Madara and danger. Had this been different, had the situation played out different, he had the sinking feeling he just would’ve said yes.

And the world was so very similar too. The mannerisms of Mito and Izuna were perfect, sparring and talking with them felt so very real. The air, the life contained within the place was the same, and so we're the habits. Really, he would've felt doubt about the situation had there not been things that set it apart.

Itama and Kawarama… they were alive. What was death when he still had them there? They were alive for him and that was what really mattered to him, wasn’t it? Because had they been alive in any other way, after dying, it would only be him acting cruel, for they were happy, and in a place without conflict.

Tobirama switched his weight to his other foot, the wood creaking underneath him as he stared back into Hashirama’s heavy gaze. He slowly lowered the gun. “Let him go.”

Hashirama twitched but Tobirama knew he wasn’t lying. He would let Madara go. “Say it first.”

No one had stated what was about to be said but Tobirama knew exactly what he needed to say. Madara was looking at them, his eyes wide and his eyes tired. He looked like he was about to drop, like he had finally seen too much. Tobirama’s chest ached at the pain he had caused Madara by not accepting at the beginning. It wasn’t going to matter too much to Madara anyway. He would feel sad, maybe for weeks or months if he had loved Tobirama that much but Tobirama knew his beloved partner. Madara was resilient and he was made to last. He would get up again, helped by Izuna and the rest of his family. 

Madara’s eyes widened as he realized what Hashirama hadn’t said, only alluded to, and he started to struggle anew. It was too late.

 _“I’ll stay here, with you_.” Tobirama slowly uttered, feeling the sound that had started echo in the room come to a stop as if the world was holding its breath. His breath left him in a whoosh as unimaginable pain started to echo from his face, his mind feeling like it was burning itself. Lines started to crawl across the ground, migrating from Hashirama and over to Tobirama, settling across his skin like tattoos.

Tobirama cried out in pain, a sound that was there and gone, stifled by him. He doubled over as it crawled over his neck, burning lines of pain clear into his mind. They stopped as they reached the back of his neck and crawled out of there, travelling over his face in three sharp lines that were on his cheekbones and his chin. Tobirama raised his hands when the pain subsided, and stared at the binding tattoos on them, red like the blood that had dripped from his hand just an hour ago.

Madara started to trash in his place when he did, his eyes wide and red and so very horrified. “No, no, no, no. Tobirama! Tobirama, tell me this isn’t true, _Tobi_.” Madara's head snapped to Hashirama, the fury making Tobirama feel uneasy and prompting him to comfort his lover. “Madara it’s okay-“ 

“No it isn’t. You’ll see it Hashirama! When I get my hands on you, there won’t be anything left to act like the cryptic fuck you are. _I'll murder you_. How dare you do this to him?! I’ll set you on fire and laugh over your ashe-“ Madara lunged for hashirama, his hands thumping against the ground as he thrashed wildly and snarled. Tobirama could only stare, feeling like all his strength had been sapped. 

Hashirama ignored Madara, approaching Tobirama and picking him up, the gun having fallen while he screamed. The vines had caught it before disappearing with it, nothing to think over. Tobirama’s head lolled to Hashirama's chest, the edge of something exhausted in his eyes.

Hashirama smiled down at him, giddy joy leaking from his face, and leaned down, resting his lips against Tobirama’s forehead. Tobirama slumped even more, barely awake anymore after what had happened, an unnatural haze entering his mind.

“I suppose you’re not dancing on my ashes, Madara.” Hashirama said with a soft smile directed at Tobirama. Something wasn’t adding up. The odd headspace of before sleep invaded his mind, setting his thoughts off track. Madara had been kidnapped and held hostage against Tobirama while Hashirama had openly expressed hate at Madara. So why would he want to keep Madara alive for senti-

The ground blew up, Madara bursting out of the floor as his eyes filled with fury, the black orbs shining and spinning with black tomoes inside of red. Tobirama stared, the way Madara’s hair seemed to slowly shift in the nonexistent breeze, the way Hashirama’s arms had tightened and how their stances had shifted to fighting whereas Hashirama hadn’t even acknowledged Madara before, let alone a threat worth being wary of.

“Ah, Madara. How nice to see you finally realized what was going on.” Hashirama said, his lips twisting in a sardonic smile. “Too late though. He is mine now, he said it.”

Madara gave him a cold look, his blaze of a soul burning brighter than ever. It hurt Tobirama’s mind, just standing between them as they tugged back and forth. Then, it all stopped, and Madara turned to Tobirama, having eyes for him only. “Love? Are you okay?” 

Tobirama kept on looking, something in him recognizing the similarities between Madara’s and Hashrama’s souls. It was damning in its realization, and he had never realized what people meant when they said, 'you can't unknown it' , before. He wished he never had. 

Madara looked at him for a second longer before coming closer. Hashirama glared when he did, his hands tightening on Tobirama’s already pained skin and causing Tobirama to wince slightly.

This couldn’t be happening. Madara wasn’t like Hashirama, he _wasn’t-_ Tobirama would-

Know? He hadn’t known the last time. And hadn’t Madara always looked so bright, like he would never burn out, like he was the end of the time and Tobirama was staring straight into him, turning mad with every second he did so, just like Hashirama had felt to him? Hadn’t those two been the only safe points he could feel when he wasn’t feeling okay? Why should they have been different?

Tobirama had already said that the situation could’ve been different had Hashirama approached differently. What if Madara already had? After all, it had made no sense for Hashirama to be jealous of a mere mortal, when he was quite obviously something more.

His breath hitched as Madara cupped his cheek, remembering the other Madara, the body. Hashirama hadn’t made a copy of Madara, he realized, because he had said ' _if_ he had made a puppet'. And Madara seemed the same as Hashirama, so maybe he did have a mortal body who was… the puppet.

Madara lightly trailed his fingers over Tobirama’s cheek. “I marked him first.”

Hashirama grew brighter in Tobirama's mind, the jealousy and anger obvious. “Maybe. He stays here.”

Madara gave him a sharp look. “No, he doesn’t. Look at what you drove him to. You don’t know how to handle emotions.” His face softened as he glanced down at Tobirama once more. “Let me help.” Madara looked up at Hashirama once more, an imploring look on his face. Tobirama didn't know how he reacted, but he knew it wasn't bad. 

"Let _us_ help."

There was a sigh. “We’ll share. And he can go out, but the marks stay.”

Madara laughed lightly. “Of course they stay. I never removed mine.”

Tobirama stared at them, feeling like he should’ve been arguing, struggling, demanding answers, but… (there was always a but) That was the man he loved, the man he had just risked everything for, the man he gave up his life for. He trusted Madara more than he trusted anything else.

The tattoo shaped like three tomoe within a circle on the back of his neck burned.

\--

Izuna stood in front of the gates of an enormous four storey house that was greenish in color. The house hadn’t been used in years, something that made the seer assured of the assumption with its dusty and peeled look. The breeze drifted across his face, making him lightly shiver.

Hashirama, Tobirama and Madara had disappeared a week ago, leaving behind nothing but a curious pile of dust and the shape of a sword carved into the wood of a tree that Tobirama had loved. They had searched vigorously, turning everywhere upside down.

The house Madara and Tobirama had supposedly been living in and the others had never been to was abandoned, hadn’t been used in years, perhaps, as the cobwebs told. It was hauntingly beautiful under the afternoon sun, something that Madara would've chosen.

Izuna stared at it for some time, wondering.

Something had gone horribly wrong. Had done so since Tobirama had come into the house weeks ago, a letter in hand and an excited glint in his eyes. Madara had crumpled far too quickly, a strange glint in his eyes, and Izuna had decided to keep his thoughts about the writing being curiously similar to Madara’s own to himself.

Very wrong indeed.


End file.
